


It's Kinktober, bitches

by SomeFrenchWhore



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Agender Pidge | Katie Holt, Altean lance, Alternate Reality, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Aromantic Pidge, Begging, Blindfolds, Blowjobs, Body Worship, Bondage, Bottom Hunk, Bottom Lotor, Bros of Marmora, Consentacles, Corsetry, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Don't Try This At Home, Don't try this at home kids, Edgeplay, Edging, Ezor taking nothing seriously ever, F/F, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Floor Sex, Frenemies with Benefits, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, Genderbending, Glory Hole, Hance - Freeform, Hate Sex, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I officially hate myself, I'm Not a Furry I Swear, Jealous Shiro, King/Consort dynamic, Klunk - Freeform, Knight Keith (Voltron), Laughter During Sex, Lesbians in Space, Lotor being nasty, M/M, Masochism, Massage, Mild Amnesia, Multi, Nipple Play, OT3, Or maybe it's requited, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pet Names, Pheromones, Porn With Plot, Power Bottom Keith (Voltron), Praise Kink, Rimming, Roof Sex, Sadism, Scratching, Semi-Public Sex, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Shiro's Glorious Tiddies, Shocking I know, Size Difference, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Subtle Crossdressing, Sugary Dirty Talk, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, There's A Tag For That, There's not enough bottom Hunk damn it, Threesome - F/F/F, Threesome - M/M/M, Titfucking, Tittyfucking, Top Lance (Voltron), Top Shiro (Voltron), Unrequited Sheith, Vanilla, Wall Sex, Yes the Blade of Marmora is a frat, ass eating, because this needed to be here twice: I hate myself, fight kink, firecupping, google it, hermaphroditic Lotor, it's complicated - Freeform, more like, power bottom Shiro, self indulgent smut, that's all you need to know, they're lesbians harold, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-08 11:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12253797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeFrenchWhore/pseuds/SomeFrenchWhore
Summary: Exactly what the title says. A series of kinky drabbles, involving various Voltron ships.





	1. Day 1 - Slapping + Klance

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a couple days late and I will probably just skip half the prompts because who has time to write a chapter a day, but I'm attempting kinktober! Because writing smut is fun! Enjoy!  
> This takes place a few years after the current episodes of Voltron, assuming they've gone home and they're living super chill domestic lives. Boring, I know.

Most couples wouldn’t say that eating the last oreo counted as justification for a physical fight, but most couples weren’t a pair of highly-trained ex-defenders of the universe with a tendency to let playful sparring get out of hand. Keith specialized in hand-to-hand combat and swordplay back in the day, while Lance specialized in distanced and evasive fighting, but neither was particularly experienced with chill.

So, that was how they ended up playfully grappling on the kitchen floor of their shared apartment, Lance on his back and defying both gravity and anatomy in his attempt to choke Keith out with his thighs before the other could successfully pin him down. Keith was on his knees, bent over him, and had been winning until the crafty man underneath him somehow hooked his powerful legs over his shoulders. This was usually game over for Keith, and they both knew it, Lance grinning as if he’d already won.

Keith needed a hail Mary, some kind of distraction. Even if it wouldn’t win him the fight, it might prolong it, and the longer it went on, the higher his chances were. If this was a real fight, he could probably just give his opponent a black eye, or take a dirty temple shot, because Lance’s head was well within reach, but Keith couldn’t just punch his lover in the face. So, he did the next best thing; he pushed in close and swung with an open hand, and the ensuing slap echoed like thunder off of the tile beneath them.

Lance’s legs relaxed enough that Keith could breathe, and could have even overtaken him, but the look on Lance’s face paralyzed him. He gasped loudly, taking in more air than seemed possible, and left his jaw agape as his eyes flashed through a hundred emotions in three seconds. 

Keith knew this look well. The universal look of,  _ You fucked up. _ “Sorry-” he started, but before he could say anything else, Lance reaffirmed his legs’ grip on Keith’s neck and twisted violently, throwing him to the ground and putting himself on top. Keith was afraid for a moment- not that Lance would hurt him, but that the fight was over. He feared Lance was angry, and about to free him too soon, only to get up and storm off. His fears were replaced by vague confusion, however, when the other threaded his fingers into his long hair almost sweetly, and then tightened into a fist, just tight enough to threaten.

“You’re not allowed to hit me like that,” He stated, and for someone that made such simple statements as ‘good morning’ into innuendos, it was jarringly blunt. “Unless I ask you to.” 

Ah. There it was. Somehow, this tone felt familiar, and once Keith chanced a glance down at his body, a wolfish grin spread across his face. “You kinky fuck,” he replied, only to get a hand clapped over his mouth, and two feet hooked over his arms, rendering him trapped.

Keith’s eyes were so expressive, wide with surprise and dilated with desire, Lance could tell what he was thinking even with half his face obscured. “You’re not allowed to  _ talk _ , either.” He decided, and removed the hand from his face to move his own sweatpants down, just far enough to free his hard-on. “Not when you could be  _ apologizing _ , instead.”

It was rare that Keith agreed to let Lance top, but here, with the man literally sitting over him and giving orders, it wasn’t like he had a choice. Of course, if he said no, he knew Lance would stop, so he always had a choice- but that didn’t matter when Keith had no desire to stop him. Still, he didn’t go down easy in a fight, and this  _ was  _ still a fight in his opinion, so instead of opening his mouth obediently, he shot back, “Already apologized, though.”

Lance used his grip on Keith’s hair to pull, hard. He knew the other’s pain tolerance well, and it was almost disturbingly high. “I said you aren’t allowed to talk. Apologize by sucking my cock, or else.”

Generally, ‘or else’ was supposed to intimidate, but coming from Lance, Keith knew it just meant he had nothing to back it up. If questioned twice, he’d flounder, or maybe come up with an entertainingly useless threat on the spot. “Or else what?”

Again, he was wrong. After moving his hips back just far enough to be out of the way, Lance slapped him with his left hand, the right still gripping his hair. Although Lance was a little gentler than Keith had been to him a moment ago, he gave it enough force to sting, and then rubbed it in with a smug, “You’re still talking.” 

Keith’s arms flexed hard, testing Lance’s control, and if it wasn’t flawless, he would have pushed him off and rekindled their fight- but it was, so all he could do was growl, hands curling into fists. He hated when Lance got into a mood. Worse, he hated himself for reacting to his violence, and prayed the man on top of him wouldn’t look behind him, because the tent in his pants would be obvious.

Lance could see the war raging behind Keith’s eyes, and shifted forwards, deciding to sweeten the deal, the head of his cock brushing the other’s lower lip ever so gently. “Good.” He praised Keith for obeying his ‘no talking’ rule, and then went still. “Now, open up, and I’ll hit you again.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed for a second.  _ And _ , not or? That was worded like a threat, but Lance smiled sweetly like he was offering a treat.

“Want me to?” Lance asked, faltering. He was pretty sure Keith was into it, but maybe he was overestimating?

Keith answered that question by parting his lips, but closed his eyes first, because he knew exactly the look Lance would give him, and he couldn’t stand it. Feeling Lance press in farther, and hearing his soft, emphatic “Oh,  _ yes _ ” as his head rubbed the top of his mouth was more than enough. He moved in small ways, a nod to change the angle every now and then, a little swirl of his tongue, and soon, Lance was a panting mess above him, his left hand braced on the tile floor and his right still in Keith’s hair. Suddenly, he pulled away with a messy pop, and let go of Keith’s hair to hit him again. He had told him he would, after all- and yet, it still came as a surprise, drawing a sharp gasp and wide, wild eyes. “Look at me.” Lance ordered, as if the slap was just to get his attention.

Obedient for once, Keith kept his dark eyes trained on Lance’s, and the electricity between them sent a shudder down Lance’s spine. “Uncurl your fists and tap my leg if you need me to stop, understand?” Lance rasped quietly, like it was a secret, even though they were perfectly alone, and Keith echoed his shudder before nodding. He knew that if they needed a safeguard like that, Lance was about to stop holding back, and the mere thought of it had his hips lifting off the floor, seeking friction that wasn’t there. Wanting more, he opened his mouth to whine, but the sound was muffled by Lance’s shaft, pushing deeper than before until he couldn’t make any half-coherent sound.

Lance was hardly a sadist, so he was about as kind about it as one could be about fucking someone’s face, pulling out often enough to let Keith breathe, but he wasn’t going to baby him, either. He pushed a little deeper with each thrust, until he couldn’t go any further, and then, upon bottoming out, stopped. Keith’s throat constricted, his body desperately trying to do something about the intrusion, and his eyes watered, but he didn’t tap out, and the rush of power that came with felt just as good as the tightening around his length. 

He pulled out after a few seconds, let Keith pull in a single breath, and repeated the motion, slowly wrecking his lover until his eyes were dazed and dizzy from only taking a breath or two per minute, his lips shiny and wet with saliva. “God, I’m close,” he admitted, shaking above Keith as he pulled out, and Keith could only cough in response at first.

Once he found his voice, though, he was immediately making demands. “Give me my hands back, Lance.”

Lance frowned a bit at that. Listening to him didn’t fit with this whole power dynamic he’d set up, but then again, Keith was excellent with his hands. Hardly a few seconds of deliberation passed before he gave in, taking his legs off of Keith’s wrists to let him move.

Keith reached one hand up to Lance’s ass, squeezing roughly and pulling him forward, and hooked the other arm around his thigh to grip his cock. “Sit on my face.” He ordered, and Lance obliged without thinking. He was willing to bet it would be worth it, and when he was this worked up, Keith could’ve told him to do anything and gotten his way.

Barely a minute later, Lance was shuddering and screaming Keith’s name, coming into his lover’s hand and riding his tongue, and Keith didn’t stop until Lance pulled away, whimpering, “can’t- can’t take any more.”

He moved to sit next to Keith, and nearly collapsed onto the kitchen floor, but Keith sat up as soon as he could, and wrapped an arm around his lover to hold him up. “No, no. No laying around here. If you’re gonna pass out, it’ll be in bed.” He chastised, and the other giggled like that was hilarious, high on afterglow.

“I’m not gonna pass out, baby.” Lance assured him, even if he was leaning on him a little. “I still need to take care of you.” One of his hands, previously limp at his side, wandered into Keith’s lap to grope him, drawing a half-surprised moan.

But then, surprisingly enough, Keith pulled his hand away and got awkwardly to his feet. “We’re still going to bed. Being pressed against a tile floor for half an hour isn’t comfy, you know.”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t half an hour. And you love being between a dick and a hard place.” Lance teased, as he let Keith help him to his feet.

Keith smiled, but couldn’t resist a little jab as they headed to the bedroom. “I don’t think you’re using that phrase correctly.”


	2. Days 2&3: Shotor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combined Day 2 (Dirty Talk) & 3 (Public) because I’m behind, and still ended up late. Whoops. Let's just say this is 3 days' worth, because Day 4 was Begging, and there's a little bit of that. ;)  
> This is an AU where Lotor’s human, and Shiro is a photographer, and they're in love.

Shiro jumped. Lotor had seemed to materialize next to him, but then again, that was only because he had been looking through a camera lens when the taller man walked up. “Hey,” he greeted, keeping a respectful distance even though his lover looked positively delectable in his dark blue three-piece suit. People weren’t supposed to know that the young socialite had gone ahead and hired his boyfriend to take pictures for his business party. Then again, could it really be called a party when watching paint dry would have been a more entertaining way to spend his Saturday night?

“You look bored.” Lotor pointed it out immediately, reading his mind with disturbing accuracy. “How about we take a break and I bend you over a table that costs more than your camera?”

“ _ What _ ?” Shiro sputtered, cheeks filling with red.

“Did I stutter?” That grin of his would have a celibate nun thinking sinful thoughts- never mind what it did to Shiro. “I spent so much time planning this event, I have the venue memorized. There are plenty of nooks and crannies no one is occupying.”

“That doesn’t mean someone won’t find us.” Shiro wanted him, there was no denying that, but he had his reservations about doing it here and now, while he was on the clock.

“It does when the host holds the keys.” Smug, Lotor held them up and jingled them.

Of course he’d have an answer for everything. Shiro resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead averted them, looking down at the camera in his hands. “I’m supposed to be taking pictures, you deviant.”

Lotor considered himself a master of subtext, and the playful note under Shiro’s refusal wasn’t well-hidden. “Well, you could technically keep taking pictures while we copulate, but I’d have to ask you not to publish those.”

Shiro bit his lip. “No, I’d add those to our personal collection.” It wasn’t easy to ruffle Lotor, but the reminder that this collection he mentioned was real had the prettiest shade of pink creeping across his pale cheeks. “I suppose I won’t get in trouble with my  _ boss _ for taking a break, huh?” A mischievous little smile found its way underneath Shiro’s serious facade. There were perks to being hired by his boyfriend.

“Nope, I hear he can be quite forgiving, even if he is usually hard on you,” Lotor commented, his casual tone almost half convincing. 

Shiro’s smile grew into a shit-eating grin. “Maybe I like when he’s  _ hard on me _ .”

Lotor made a sound that was half a laugh, and half a disappointed scoff. “That was a truly terrible pun, and I have no one else to blame but myself.” He mourned for a moment, then changed the subject back to where he wanted it. “But… that sounds like a yes, in which case, it’s a good thing I brought lube.” 

Shiro’s eyes narrowed as the other took his hand to begin leading him down a hallway. “How long were you planning this?”

“Oh, this just occurred to me a few minutes ago,” It was a lie, but Lotor was an excellent liar. “I just happened to have the necessary materials in my car and went to get them before finding you.”

“I don’t believe you.” 

Damn. Anyone else would have. Lotor paused, contemplating whether to fess up to it or not, and shrugged, “I plead the Fifth. But could you blame me if I was? You’re all I think about.” They’d reached their destination now, a forgotten little storage room with a few spare tables in it, some stacked on others with their legs in the air. Lotor wasted no time in sealing his hands to Shiro’s hips and pulling him close for a kiss.

“Must get boring,” Shiro joked, continuing the conversation in between feverish kisses.

“Never. I’m very creative.” Lotor disagreed, and then quieted him with another kiss, hands sliding behind his lover to grope his ass.

Shiro made a mental note to ask what he meant by that another time, but at the moment, Lotor was kissing down his neck, scraping his teeth just above the line of his shirt, and his attention was on two things; setting his camera somewhere safe, and examining the doorway they’d come through. Belatedly, he realized something, and gently pushed at his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Babe- what’s the point of having the keys if there’s no door to lock?”

Lotor shrugged, pulling back to look at him. “No one even knows this room is here, and the walls in this building are literally designed to minimize noise so partygoers’ voices don’t drown out the music. No one will hear us.” With that, he returned to nuzzling Shiro’s neck, and squeezed his ass again. “Moan for me.” To put it gently, Shiro was a brat at best; he loved making things difficult for Lotor, and did all he could to stay quiet as soon as he was told the opposite. So, Lotor turned up the heat and angled his body closer, grinding against him. “I  _ need  _ you, Takashi.” Shameless as ever, he took Shiro’s hand away from his waist and pulled it between his legs so that his lover could feel the bulge there.

Shiro broke, a soft “oh,” escaping him, and followed it with a reverent “oh, god.” when the mere sound of his voice made Lotor’s cock twitch in his hand. He adored the power he had over the older man, even if Lotor constantly pretended to be in charge.

Even now, his hands were unbuttoning Shiro’s pants, pushing them down to his thighs so he could get at his sex, and he was making demands he had no business making. “Turn around, now. I said I’d bend you over this table, and I intend to.”

“No.” Shiro’s jaw set stubbornly.

Lotor tensed, as if preparing for a fight, and then hesitated, huffing. Something was different. “Is that a ‘make me’ no, or a revocation of your consent?”

“You know, it’s kinda un-sexy when you use words like ‘revocation’.” Shiro dodged the question, and leaned in to wrap one arm around Lotor’s trim waist. Before the other could catch on to what he was doing, he had the other around his knees, and had lifted him onto the table he’d just been pressed against.

Granted, Lotor was on the thin side, and he knew it, but at six and a half feet tall, he was not petite by any means, so being lifted like a blushing bride was a new experience-- and, as it turned out, one he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. His cheeks were not red with frustration, but arousal, and the next words out of his mouth were much less eloquent than his usual highly-educated prose. “Then how about  _ ride me until we break this fucking table. _ Is that better?”

Shiro nodded, and against his better judgement, slid his pants down to go and straddle his boyfriend. “Definitely.” He grinned, undoing the other’s pants while Lotor reached into his pocket for the little bottle of lube he’d mentioned. By now, they knew each other’s bodies like the steps of an old dance, so in less than a minute, Lotor had two slippery fingers pushing into him, and Shiro was using his own hands to take his lover apart piece by piece. Lotor’s shirt and vest were both half unbuttoned with his left hand to get at his nipples, and his cock was leaking precum into Shiro’s right hand. “So pretty,” Shiro breathed against his lips, then pulled back a bit to examine his work. “I can’t wait to feel you, baby,” he paused to roll his hips, fucking himself on Lotor’s fingers, and Lotor quickly raised his left hand to press it to Shiro’s neck.

He didn’t dare choke him; he’d learned a long time ago that Shiro didn’t like it, which, even if it was a little disappointing for Lotor, he would respect. He simply pressed his hand there to get his attention, looking into his eyes with the intensity of the sun. “Stop talking, please,” even though his tone was dangerous, he worded it kindly, hoping Shiro wouldn’t take it the wrong way. “If you keep- keep on like that, I’ll- I’ll get- just stop.” He was far too proud to admit how quickly it got to him when his reticent lover let go of his inhibitions enough to talk dirty, but he wasn’t the only one who could take nonverbal hints.

Shiro guessed his problem anyway, and made sure to make it worse. “I’ll stop when you make me.” He challenged, “stop teasing me and give it to me. I’m ready. We don’t have time to waste anyway.”

“And you’re lucky we don’t, or I’d take my sweet time punishing you for that.” Lotor hissed as he positioned himself, relishing in the way that that statement had him shuddering. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you.”

Instead of answering, Shiro closed his eyes focused on breathing evenly, on convincing his body to allow something much bigger than a few fingers in. It was still a bit of a struggle; neither of them were virgins when they met, but Shiro had been a top for most of his adult life. He’d learned quite a few things in the past months, though, and once he felt the head of his cock breach his ass, he lost patience and dropped himself onto his boyfriend’s lap, impaling himself all the way. At this point, they could only hope the music of the party was loud enough to muffle their voices, because Lotor moaned loudly at the sudden jolt of pleasure that shot through him like lightning. “And you say I talk too much,” Shiro teased, but the breathless quality to his voice said it all. 

Thankfully, Lotor’s exaggeration about breaking the table proved wrong; once Shiro started moving, riding like he actually was trying to break either the table or his lover, the table held up much better than Lotor did. Shiro, hesitant to believe the walls were somehow soundproof, quickly put a hand over the other’s mouth, but made no move to slow down. Lotor’s hands were sealed to his hips like his life depended on it, pulling him in.

“You can’t take it when I take control, can you?” Shiro murmured next to his ear, quiet enough that no one would hear him even if they were just outside the doorway. “You’re close already.” He had braced one hand on the table, and the other on Lotor’s abdomen, and the latter could feel the muscles there tensing, heaving up and down as he panted.

If Lotor wasn’t already close, he would have been pulled to the edge of oblivion by Shiro’s tone. With a hand over his mouth, though, all he could do was whimper and nod, begging with his eyes.

Shiro moved his hand away from Lotor’s mouth, only to cover it with a bruising, transient kiss. “Come for me, Lotor. Inside me.” He whispered as soon as he broke away, and Lotor obeyed, holding Shiro in place and bucking up into him once, twice more before going still.

It took half a minute for Lotor to even remember how to think, and another minute until he was breathing normally, but once he had both things down, he looked down at Shiro’s neglected arousal. “You haven’t finished yet,” it wasn’t a complaint, merely an observation.

“No... This suit costs more than my rent, I can’t cum all over it.” He patted the fabric, and pouted at Lotor when the other started laughing. “What?”

“Oh, my love- only you would think of such a thing even in a moment of passion.” He grinned, and tapped the other’s thigh as a gesture for him to move. “But I’m glad you did, you are entirely right. It would be very unprofessional to go back out in a stained suit.”

Shiro sat on the table, fidgeting impatiently as Lotor yammered on. “Okay?” He watched the other stand up, and then watched with wide eyes as he dropped to his knees. 

“Why do you look so surprised? You didn’t think I’d forget you, did you?” Lotor teased, taking Shiro’s cock in his hand and stroking as he placed a few delicate kisses on the side.

“No, I-” He began, and then whimpered, swallowing a moan, as the other took the head of his arousal between his lips and sucked hard. “Oh, god, please don’t tease me,” he whispered, the fingers of one hand curling into his lover’s long, silky hair. “Please.”

“Who?” Lotor moved away just long enough to ask, and then resumed mouthing just the head of Shiro’s cock.

“Lotor, please!” Shiro knew the cocky man just wanted to hear his name, so he gave him what he wanted, but he was too worked up for patience.

That, Lotor mused, might have been his favorite phrase in the world. So, he obliged, sucking in as much of Shiro’s length as he could, and setting a pace that had the hand in his hair shaking in seconds. Shiro was much better at staying quiet than he was, but even then, little gasps and whines escaped him, intermingled with mumbled words- “Lotor,” “yes,” and “fuck” being the most identifiable among them.

A minute later, he found his voice enough to hiss, “Lo- Lotor, I’m gonna-” but Lotor cut him off with a moan of his own, and even if it was fabricated, the sound and vibration of it were too much. Shiro curled in on himself and came, shuddering his lover’s name. 

If he hadn’t  _ just _ finished a minute earlier, the sound of his name on Shiro’s lips would have made Lotor hopelessly hard all over again, but he reminded himself this had to be the end. This was a quickie in the corner of a public venue, after all, not the beginning of a long night. He drank down the spurts of warm, salty seed in his mouth so they wouldn’t dribble out messily onto his face, and could have sworn Shiro twitched one more time when he swallowed. 

“Holy shit,” Shiro breathed, and let go of his hair, patting it in a halfhearted attempt to fix the spot he’d messed up. “I love you.”

Lotor was already on his feet, re-buttoning his shirt and tucking himself back into his pants. “Yes, me too,” Shiro still hadn’t heard him say the actual words, and it sometimes worried him, but nothing could worry him at the moment. “Now, we really should get back.” He checked his watch, “we’ve been-” 

Shiro interrupted by pulling his lover down for a kiss, buying himself one more minute before getting back to the boring party.

Lotor was more grateful for the interruption than he’d ever admit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, comment any ships you'd like to see in future chapters, and thank you so much for all the love! I know thirty-something kudos doesn't seem like a lot, but it's a lot to me ;u; If you're reading this, I love you.


	3. Days 5 & 6: Heith, Humiliation, Size Difference, and Bondage, oh my

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I am a college student and I have a few papers I should be writing instead, so I may skip a week or so and then come back. But in the meantime, here's one of my favorite rarepairs with a few of my favorite things!

"There. Perfect.” Hunk rarely sounded so self assured, so satisfied, and Keith loved it. The only two situations in which he glowed like this were upon finishing a baking project like decorating a cake, and when he finished tying Keith up.

Sweets were nice, but Keith’s favorite was the latter, of course. Currently, he couldn’t move a muscle below his neck except for his toes; he was bent facedown, his knees resting on a soft ottoman and the rest of his weight on his chest on the arm of their couch, and bright red ropes criss-crossed his body from shoulders to ankles. A ladder tie on each side secured his ankles to his thighs, and then threaded up to coil around his forearms, which were perpendicular to his spine. That same rope then went up to loop around his neck, and under his arms again, to finish with a large knot between his shoulder blades. Hunk, being the artist that he was, also took the liberty of tying a ribbon over that knot and into a bow. “Not like you weren’t perfect before, babe,” the bigger man corrected himself gently. Keith twisted to look over his shoulder at his lover, and the soft grin on his face warmed him to his core. Before they could get to anything else, though, Hunk’s smile faded for a moment. Keith knew what was coming. “Is everything okay? Anything too tight?”

“Yes, Hunk, I’m fine. I always am.” He reassured his anxious boyfriend, tossing in an unusually sweet smile. “I know you’ll take care of me.”

His flattery got under Hunk’s skin, and he knew Keith knew it. “Good.” He reached out to lay his hands on the other’s hips, eyes following his own hands. It was truly striking how petite Keith was compared to him; his hands could nearly fit around his waist. “Then we’ll start.” And just like that, the nervous, inoffensive side of Hunk seemed to melt away, and Keith would swear the temperature in the room actually changed. “You’ve been so good for me, you know… that’s my second favorite part of this, tying you. My first is stretching you to your limits, but we’ll get to that later. For now, I’m just gonna take a second… to appreciate.” His hands moved as he spoke, massaging Keith’s hips, then moving down to squeeze his ass, and then sliding to rest on the front of his thighs. He was careful not to get too close to Keith’s cock, though, not even to graze it with a fingertip. “You’re all wrapped up like a Christmas present, just for me. Only me.” He cooed. “Say it for me, baby.”

“Say what? I look like Christmas?” A glimmer in Keith’s eyes and a twitch of his lips gave away the game; he knew exactly what Hunk wanted to hear, but he was about to make him work for it.

Those eyes squeezed shut a second later, when a hand bigger than most paddles came down on his bare ass. “You know what. Tell me you’re mine.” 

Most people had no idea Hunk was even capable of sounding so authoritative, and Keith felt a possessive little thrill surge through him. Hunk didn’t treat anyone this way but him, and only because he’d asked for it. Hunk belonged to him just as much as he belonged to Hunk. Still, the siren song of being a little shit was too loud to ignore- as per usual, in Keith’s head.  “You already know I am.”

Another slap, and another. Keith was sure there was a large handprint on his ass at this point; he could practically feel it glow red. Hunk, of course, could see it, and traced it with a gentle fingertip as he spoke. “Should I bother to keep asking? Or should I just spank you ‘til you cry a little, because it’s what you want anyway?” Somehow, even though he was asking questions, they didn’t seem to be aimed at Keith at all, more like he was talking to himself. Briefly, Hunk took his hands off Keith, but only to grab several of the ropes between his legs and lift. Suddenly, his hips were higher up than his head, and his lower body was even more vulnerable than before. “Three spanks, and you’re rock hard, huh?” Hunk commented, reaching between his legs to trace a single finger along his erection. “or was it the rope that did that? Nasty little thing.” 

Keith shuddered, breathing heavy, and he couldn’t even blame it on Hunk touching him where he needed it; such minimal contact, hardly a fingertip, shouldn’t have him so breathless. Hearing Hunk, the sweetest man he’d ever met, talk to him like that was so debasing, so jarringly different from their usual interactions, it just about killed him to hear it, and yet, he craved more. Was he dizzy, or imagining it?

“Oh, poor baby. You’re all red. I’ll be nice today and put you down before you pass out.” Hunk answered the question he hadn’t answered, dropping Keith’s hips so blood would stop rushing to his head so much. 

Keith groaned and closed his eyes at the swirling, just stepped off a rollercoaster feeling, but before he could fully recover, Hunk spanked him again, and the combination of lightheadedness and pain was immediately overwhelming. That was exactly why Hunk did it. He cried out, and when Hunk didn’t stop, wailed something that sounded vaguely like “Oh, god!” It wasn’t ‘red’, which they used as a safety system, so Hunk simply doled out another harsh slap. “Hunk, I-ah!” And another, and another, until he got what he was waiting for. “Hunk, please!”

“Please, what?” He asked, genuinely looking for input. Did Keith want more, or less?

“Please,” Keith whimpered just the one word, his voice watery, and Hunk pressed closer, wrapping an arm under his stomach to hug the smaller man to his chest. It meant his own erection was pressed against Keith’s thigh, and part of him badly wanted to grind against his warmth, but he resisted. He had to take care of his beloved first. 

“It’s okay, baby.” He soothed, reaching up his free hand to swipe a finger across one of Keith’s cheeks. As expected, it came away a little wet. “You’re doing so good for me, honey. My perfect lil red-cheeked rope bunny. Ha, it rhymes!” He broke character for a moment, and then slid back into it. “Anyway- are you gonna say it for me, now?”

“Mm-hmm.” Keith nodded, and yet, didn’t immediately continue. His lover waited patiently, swiping a bit of wetness from his other cheek and kissing his shoulders. Keith couldn’t think. He was supposed to say something, but he couldn’t focus when he was busy being intensely aware of the heat against his back, the pleasant warmth of Hunk’s breath ghosting across his neck, and the distinct hardness poking at his inner thighs. Without another word, he arched and pushed back against it, wanting.

Hunk only dropped him back onto the couch, all but knocking the wind out of him as his chest hit the armrest. “I want to give it to you, but you can’t have that yet. You didn’t do what I asked.” He reminded, lowering his hands back down to knead at Keith’s reddened cheeks for another minute. “Who do you belong to?” He finally prompted. Hunk’s patience was impressive, but not infinite.

“You,” Keith finally remembered what he was supposed to be saying. “I belong to you, I’m yours, I want you.”

When it rained, it poured. It seemed the stubborn man had finally broken, and Hunk both loved and hated the surge of pride that overtook him at that realization. He wouldn’t admit it and risk ruining the moment, but he still struggled with the implications of breaking his lover’s will- it seemed so cruel. Cruelty was what Keith needed sometimes, though, and he was willing to work with that. Finally, one of his hands trailed between the other’s cheeks, and toyed with the shiny jewel there. They knew Keith couldn’t spend forever tied up, lest his feet go numb, so they’d prepared with a plug early on, and at Hunk’s insistence, it was a cutesy princess plug with a fake red gem in the end. He had a weakness for cute, little things, and whenever Keith made fun of him for that, he’d point out that Keith  _ was  _ one of the cute little things he loved so much.

Keith didn’t appreciate it.

Regardless, he certainly appreciated the toy at the moment, as Hunk moving it around had it pressing against him in all the right ways. “How’s that feel, baby?” Hunk asked, even if the answer was obvious from his lover’s moans.

“Good, so good,” Keith gasped, muscles tensing and shifting under the ropes as he tried to drum up enough control to push back. He couldn’t, though, and his helplessness was more apparent than ever.

“Stop moving,” Hunk didn’t yell at him, didn’t bark, but it was an order nonetheless, and Keith stilled. “Good boy.” He praised, and then took hold of the red gem to slowly pull the toy out of Keith’s ass. The man whined loudly, half aroused and half mourning the sudden emptiness, but that was nothing compared to the noise he made when Hunk surprised him by pushing it back in. He pushed against the base again, angling it in little up-and-down motions, pulled it out again, and repeated the whole process, fucking him torturously slow with the pear-shaped toy. “God, you look so good.” Hunk talked him through it the entire time, knowing from experience how weak his voice made Keith. “Focus on me, Keith. You don’t have to turn and look, ssh. Close your eyes and listen. Feel it move. It’s good, isn’t it? You like the way it stretches you wide open for me? I do. It’s still not enough, though. I know you need more. You always need more. That’s why you’re mine. Tell me what you need, baby boy.”

Keith could just about die happy now, but he knew they weren’t done- they were hardly even halfway there. Just as he took a breath to answer, though, Hunk pulled the plug out one last time and changed his request to a slightly harsher one. 

“Beg for it.”

Keith keened instead and canted his hips, as if begging wordlessly.

“That doesn’t count.” Hunk specified, with a little slap to remind him moving wasn’t allowed. “Speak.”

He said it like he was talking to a dog, and some part of Keith flared with anger, but it was buried deep at the moment. The more dominant part of his mind latched onto that tone and drank it up like a man dying of thirst. It was humiliating, to be spoken to like an animal, and while hog-tied like one, too, so why did he love it so much? “Fuck me,” he said, careful to stay still.

He got spanked again anyway. “Closer, but not what I want.”

“Fuck me, please.” He amended, and turned to look at Hunk over his shoulder, blatant desperation in his eyes. “I need you, I need to get wrecked, please, please.”

God, as if he wasn’t already there. Hunk fumbled with the bottle of lube he’d left nearby on a little table next to the couch, his steady hands failing him as his own arousal flared higher than he could ignore. Hopefully, Keith simply wouldn’t notice.

“You need me, too.” Keith noticed, a grin curling his red, bitten lips.

Hunk figured he was supposed to maintain the upper hand, as the dominant in this situation, but this was the Keith he loved the most. He loved when Keith was a little shit, when he knew full well the effect he had on Hunk, when he was blunt and brave enough to say the filthiest things, and even when he was a touch possessive… so, he did nothing to stop him. He needed a few seconds to lube himself up, anyway.

“Bet you’ve been hard the whole time- right? You love seeing me like this. You’re mine, you and your huge cock. No one else gets to know what it’s like to have that monster-” He would’ve continued, but Hunk interrupted.

“That’s enough, sweetheart.” His pet names were as sugary as ever, but his tone was strained. His patience was wearing thin.

So, naturally, Keith purposely sawed off the last string holding it up. “Fuck me  _ now _ , Hunk, I can’t wait for it any longer. Please-!” The last word was drawn out, practically a wheeze by the end, because Hunk started rubbing against him, and the weight of his cock against his ass was unbearably hot, in more ways than one.

After a few seconds of grinding, Hunk pressed the head in, moving slow as usual. Keith whined, but he quietly scolded, “Quiet. You know I’d break you.”

“I want you to.” Keith moaned, and to his surprise, Hunk obliged. Aided by the copious amount of lube he’d applied to his shaft, he grabbed Keith by the hips and pushed in until his hips were flush against the other’s ass, drawing what could only be described as a scream.

Hunk let out a groan of his own, hands tightening around the smaller man’s hips in an effort to ground himself. “Oh, God. Is it too much?” Even when he could hardly think, his first concern was Keith, and the question had his lover chuckling breathily.

“It- it always is,” Keith panted, “don’t stop, though. I can ta-” Hunk pulled back, and he shuddered out a moan, forgetting what he was going to say.

“You can what?” Hunk teased, pushing back in a half inch at a time. “You can take it?” He figured it was safe to assume. “You can take anything I can dish out, can’t you?” He grinned as he bottomed out again, and it was nothing like the warm cozy blanket of a smile he’d given Keith earlier- more like a douse of lighter fluid to a fire. 

Keith groaned and hung his head. Watching Hunk was too much for his senses. Seeing that devilish grin on his angel’s face would get to him too quickly, and he wanted this to last. 

Unfortunately for him, Hunk didn’t intend to give him the luxury of taking it slow. Keith had told him not to stop, after all. So, after seating himself fully for the second time, he dribbled a little more lube onto the junction between them, ensuring he wouldn’t hurt either of them when things inevitably got rough, and started to move in earnest. He kept it simple at first, holding Keith’s hips still as he moved back and forth; this stage mostly existed to ensure Keith was stretched enough. Frustrating both of them was a convenient side effect.

Soon enough, that side effect became apparent, once Keith’s frustration forced him to focus coherently enough to communicate. “Hunk,” he whined, “Please.”

“More?” Hunk sounded, of all things, hopeful. As much as he claimed he didn’t need all this- the rope, the dirty words, the power- to get off, he had to admit, he’d started to love the unnecessary roughness Keith demanded from him. It was one of the few times he got to fully let go. How could he worry about anything trivial when his lover was greedily hoarding all of his attention?

“ _ More _ .” Keith confirmed, and Hunk listened. Shifting slightly, he gripped the front of Keith’s thighs to support the weight of his lower body and kicked the little footrest out from under his knees. It meant Keith was almost entirely in his hands, at his mercy, and they both loved it.

Even better, though, was when Hunk used his grip to brace his petite lover against his own thighs and began to thrust into him twice as hard as before, skin slapping against skin obscenely as he went. He was quieter, now, expressing himself only in short grunts, heavy breaths, and softly hissed syllables that might have been Keith’s name, or God’s- who knew?

Keith, on the other hand, was not afraid to curse, and that he did, loudly enough that, if Hunk wasn’t quite so occupied, he’d be worrying about disturbing their neighbors. Feeling almost weightless, cradled in Hunk’s enormous hands, was wonderful on its own, but when he did this while fucking into him just the way he liked- Keith was gone in a few minutes, coming untouched onto the floor beneath them. 

Hunk could feel it before it happened, in a very literal sense. The thighs under his hands tensed, and Keith bucked and cried out higher than before. It didn’t change anything; the bigger man went harder, even, and after Keith was spent, wrapped his arms around his waist to lift him entirely off the couch. This was for his benefit only, now. He needed to feel his lover close to him to finish, and after just a few more thrusts, clutching the other to his chest and bouncing him on his cock, Hunk was gone, too. He was forced to let go of Keith with one hand to brace himself on the couch, lest his knees give out under the both of them.

Once it passed, and he had nothing left, he ever so carefully pulled out and carried Keith to the couch, sitting down and setting the tied-up mess on his lap. The poor thing was utterly still, unresponsive, so of course, Hunk immediately worried he’d done something wrong. “Keith? Baby?” Gingerly, he patted wherever the nearest part of him was- a bruised hip, as it turned out. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.” Keith mumbled, his eyes closed as if he’d fallen asleep. 

Hunk knew he’d simply fallen into the familiar, hazy headspace he often fell into after sessions like this, so he wasn’t worried. He simply pressed a few kisses to his shoulders and neck, and then set about untying him with the greatest care, massaging blood back into his hands and feet and murmuring little praises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as before, feel free to request a ship you'd like to see in the comments! Or just tell me what you think.  
> Also, since these are written with a deadline, they are un-beta'd and mostly unedited, so if you find a typo or something that makes no sense, let me know so I can fix it!


	4. Day 7: Corfor + Body Worship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me tell you a secret: I only wrote this because someone said I couldn't  
> AU/AR where Coran was a consort? Because Altean society allowed that I guess? Who even cares, I hate myself for writing this.

 

When Alfor walked into his bedroom, he was ambushed by two pleasant surprises: the smell of scented candles burning, and a delighted redhead. “Welcome back, your highness!” Coran sang. “How’d it go? Not well, I’d guess.”

From anyone else, that would be insulting, but he only sounded sympathetic. Alfor gave a tired smile. “We accomplished what we set out to do. That’s what matters.”

Coran’s eyebrows turned downwards, mirroring his frown. “Your highness,” he murmured, laying a hand gently on his still-armored forearm to slide it down and take his hand. 

“I’m fine, Coran.” He assured his advisor-slash-consort, but before he was even through with the short phrase, the other was pulling him further into the room, and towards a table. Rather than the cups, snacks, and whatnot that usually occupied this table, it was covered in thick blankets, folded over and over until they nearly formed a mattress. “What is…” he began, and Coran happily answered his unasked question.

“You’ve been working so hard defending the universe, I figured you deserved a break! But of course, you can’t just go on vacation when your team needs you available at all times, can you? So! I’ve created a spa right here in your bedroom! Strip down, and climb up onto the table, your highness!”

Alfor stared at him for a few seconds, as if trying to tell whether he was serious, but the feeling passed quickly. It wasn’t even like ‘Strip down and climb up onto the table!’ was the weirdest request Coran had given him lately, not by a long shot. So, he did exactly that.

“On your front, please!” Coran instructed, noting the way he hesitated.

“Must you be clothed for this, Coran?” Alfor asked as he settled comfortably onto the table, resting his head on a small pillow that had been placed at the end.

“I was waiting for you to ask, your highness.” Coran admitted shamelessly, stepping out of his uniform almost too quickly. The King had to wonder what he was planning, here, especially when he saw the excitable redhead pick up a bottle of something pink and viscous.

“You didn’t have-” he began to ask, but again, Coran anticipated his question and answered it.

“No, sire.” He chortled, like it was ridiculous. Of course he didn’t have his King climb up onto a table just to fuck him. They could so easily have done that in his bed, and it wasn’t exactly a treatment one would find at a spa. (Not a reputable one, anyway.) “This is much better.”

Briefly, Alfor considered asking,  _ what could be better than a good lay after a hard day? _ But he held his tongue. Maybe Coran would prove him wrong. The pale man was applying what seemed a copious amount of the pale, pink transparent liquid onto his hands, and rubbing them to warm it. Soon enough, he walked around to the end of the table where his feet were, and Alfor craned his neck to watch him, until the other tutted, “No need, sire. You already trust me with your body most nights, and this is no different. Lay your head down, close your eyes, and focus on relaxing. I’m going to take care of you.” And then his hands were on Alfor’s calves and sliding up to his knees in sync, squeezing rhythmically with his thumbs to rub all tension out of his legs. “Because you deserve it.” 

Among all of his other talents, this was Alfor’s favorite thing about Coran; he never flattered him obsequiously. He never bowed and lauded the king simply because he was the king. As both his advisor and his consort, they were nearly equals; he didn’t have to suck up to Alfor any more than the Queen did. And yet, Coran said wonderful things about him anyway, simply because he  _ believed  _ them. He bowed anyway, simply because he respected him. And oh, god, he did wonderful things to his King with his hands- just because he wanted to. Alfor moaned without even realizing it; Coran had made his way up to the backs of his thighs and, upon finding a particularly tight spot above his right knee, pressed the tension out of it like he was juicing a juniberry. “You’re so good to me, Coran.”

The consort glowed with his praise, like a plant opening its leaves to the sunlight, and paused to oil up his hands again before starting in on Alfor’s shoulders. “I’m the lucky one, sire.” He insisted, spreading and closing his fingers as he rubbed circles into his shoulder blades.

“It must be hard to reach,” Alfor observed, cracking open an eye and smiling coyly. “Why don’t you join me on the table?” There was a ‘why’ there, but it was not a question, and Coran obeyed happily, straddling his thighs so he could continue working his hands down the other’s back. “Tell me why you’re lucky.”

“Because you’re gorgeous!” Coran answered without hesitation. “Anyone would be lucky to have you. I’m sure men and women alike, throughout the galaxy, would kill to get their hands on these broad, defined, milk-chocolate shoulders, especially while you smell like juniberries.”

A soft laugh shook said shoulders. “Are you hungry, Coran?”

“Only for you, sire.” He answered smoothly. “And I’m afraid I’ll never be full, either.” Having thoroughly massaged every knot out of his back, Coran bent to press a kiss between his shoulder blades, slow and firm. Alfor sighed pleasantly, shifting under him, and he took it as a sign to continue. His mustache tickled a bit, especially when he made it worse by nuzzling him, and Alfor rewarded him with little laughs that floated and shined like bubbles. Slowly, gracefully, Coran moved down, kissing every inch of his King’s back, every dip in muscle, every bruise from combat. Soon, he reached the curve of his ass, but he didn’t bother to stop there; if anything, his treatment was more sincere, reverent, even. His hands squeezed and massaged everywhere that his lips weren’t currently, and when Alfor moaned again, it came as no surprise. 

What did surprise him was when the king suddenly groaned, “Coran, stop.”  As expected, Coran obeyed immediately, but not without a bit of confusion. He thought things were going well. He hadn’t put his lips anywhere he wasn’t supposed to, had he? Before he could ask for confirmation, however, Alfor shifted, raising his hips and bringing his knees up. Immediately, Coran understood why. His cock was hard, achingly so by the looks of it, and it would have been rather uncomfortable to continue laying on it.

“Oh,” he breathed, and Alfor chuckled.

“Nothing to say?” He teased. Coran never stopped talking, most of the time.

“Only that I’m feeling blessed, your highness,” he answered, reaching between his legs to grip his arousal and stroke slowly, his still-oiled hands sliding along the overheated skin nicely. “For being allowed to please you this way.”

“Don’t stop, then,” Alfor instructed; keeping still was taking more effort than he cared to admit. “Prove to me that you deserve my body.” 

Even with his focus down between Alfor’s legs, Coran could hear the grin he wore through his tone. Challenges from him were never a provocation to fight, or an expression of doubt; only a statement of the high expectations he had for his consort. The enthusiastic redhead was good at his job, and they both knew it. Accepting the challenge wordlessly, Coran dipped his head lower and began to eat Alfor’s ass, continuing to stroke him with both hands. His own member was hard as well, and in fact had been for a while, but he ignored it for the time being. Pleasing his king, worshipping this body that belonged to only him and the queen, was far more important.

He took his time, teasing and kissing at the skin around his hole before ever letting his tongue exit his mouth, and then circling and licking the sensitive space between his sac and his ass. Alfor didn’t hesitate to voice his appreciation, peppering his near-constant moans with little encouragements. “Oh, yes, there, good, just like that, oh gods,  _ yes _ , Coran,” he directed as much as he praised, and Coran used his voice to guide his movements, ensuring he delivered exactly what Alfor needed.

The only time he risked doing something his king didn’t ask for was when he moved a step further and pushed his tongue inwards, and that gamble paid off. Alfor moaned luxuriously, and he didn’t stop moving it in and out until the older man was falling apart in his hands, back arching and cock pulsing as he spilled onto the soft blankets below. 

Coran pulled back so as not to overdo it, and rubbed at Alfor’s thighs to relax the muscles there. “Feel better, sire?” He murmured, smirking a little, and the King smiled over his shoulder at him.

“Yes, Coran. Just as you knew I would.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaahh!! 50 kudos and 1000+ hits!! I'm so thrilled you're all enjoying my dumb smut, and I honestly scream every time I get a comment, so if you have something to say, please say it! Most of the popular ships (Sheith, Shance, Hance, Pidgance, Lancelot) are on my to-do list already, but if you have a pair you'd like to see, let me know!


	5. Day 8: Pidgance + Face-sitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter bc it is technically the 8th, I love Pidge/Lance, I love writing facesitting, and I love you all ;)  
> This takes place years after current episodes of Voltron, so they're both 18+, and they are now roommates, because... why not?  
> Dedicated to @EdgarAllenPoet

“Wow, are you sitting on a roof with your laptop, wearing old-school headphones, stalking aliens, right now? I have such deja vu.” Lance’s voice sounded from behind her, near the door that led back inside, and Pidge briefly wondered how she hadn’t heard it open and swing shut.

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious. No, I’m not stalking aliens, I was trying to work.” Pidge snapped, and despite not telling him to go away, her tone screamed ‘fuck off.’

Lance was unfazed, and probably would’ve sat next to her even if she had explicitly told him to fuck off. “Well, whatever it is can probably wait ‘til morning, can’t it?” Gingerly, he reached over to move her headphones away from her ears and set them on her shoulders. Once they were moved, he could hear the faint sound of shredding guitars and a voice screaming, and nothing had ever surprised him less. Pidge listened to music as intense as she was. “Look up instead.”

Pidge technically did look up for a second, but soon, it turned into rolling her eyes. “Lance, not every problem can be solved by avoiding it and stargazing instead. Besides, we’ve been to half those star systems. The night sky isn’t a mystery anymore.” As much as she tried to sound apathetic and factual, the disappointment in her voice bled through like ink on a coffee filter.

“I know.” Lance sighed, looking up at the stars. “It’s weird, being back home, and still feeling homesick for the stars, isn’t it?”

Pidge stared at him, dumbstruck for a moment, and then reached up and pushed his face as far away as her short arms would allow. Thanks to him having no sense of personal space, he was close enough that she managed to push him off-balance, and he flailed a little. “Stop being wise and poetic and shit. I just meant that programming is harder than your dick will ever be.”

Lance made a noise of protest when he was pushed, but her words had him cracking up seconds later. “You sure? I got it goin’ on, ya know.”

Pidge scoffed, the sound driving a knife right into his ego. “Oh, I’m so sure. When’s the last time you even kissed a girl?”

Lance pouted, then his eyes glinted with a bad idea, and he impulsively leaned in and pecked her lips. “Just now.”

Immediately, she lit up like a stoplight and pushed him harder than before, causing the poor boy to fall onto his back. “That doesn’t count, you piece of shit.” She hissed, “now fuck off before I seriously hurt you.”

Lance’s brain told him that listening to her was a good idea. Lance’s dick, however, liked that tone, and wanted to hear it again… and when had he ever listened to his brain? “I wouldn’t mind that.” He blurted out, unmoving from his vulnerable position on the ground.

She didn’t look at him for a minute, staring off into the distance cryptically, and with the city lights reflecting off her glasses, he couldn’t see her eyes at all. Immediately, Lance worried that he’d upset her somehow; whether she was uncomfortable, or simply angry at him, it didn’t look like good news. His mouth flapped a little awkwardly, trying to decide how to apologize.

In truth, Pidge was trying, unsuccessfully, to tamp down the solar flare of desire his words had caused. “Are you kidding?” She asked, genuinely half-curious and half-confused.

Lance couldn’t help but smile. Pidge could rewrite any computer program to work faster and better than it had before, re-wire a flip phone into a grenade in minutes, and think her way out of any sticky situation, but she still didn’t understand people. “If you want me to be, yes. If you were hoping I was serious… then I was.” He answered dodgily, still a little worried that she didn’t want to be having this conversation.

“Hm.” She sounded like she’d found a new, interesting function to program into Rover Junior, a drone she’d bought and modified the hell out of as soon as they were back on Earth. Speaking of which, “Rover Junior, lock the door to the roof.” Upon hearing its name, the little thing whirred to life, flew over to the door, and latched onto the handle to begin the process of, well, doing the exact opposite of picking the lock. Within a minute, it managed to twist the inner mechanisms enough to lock it from the outside, which wasn’t supposed to be possible, but then, Pidge doing impossible things was just another Saturday night for them. 

Having Pidge set her laptop and headphones down to go and straddle his waist, however- that was new. “Oh??” he grinned, eyebrows raising. “Is that a yes, then? All those times you threatened me, all I had to do was-?” 

“Shut up, Lance.” She barked, and he did. She watched his mouth snap shut like a bear trap, and his throat move as he swallowed, and the action made her smirk. “Are you nervous?”

He shook his head. Back when they were paladins, Pidge had saved his life on countless occasions; he knew she’d never do anything to harm him. Hurting him physically, sure, she did that daily- but never with bad intentions.

“You should be.”

On second thought, she definitely had bad intentions. It was too late to back out, now, though, because her dainty little hands- freezing cold, as always- were pulling his shirt up past his waist, past his chest, until the fabric was bunched at his collarbone. “Yeah? Why’s that?” He couldn’t resist egging her on.

“I  _ just  _ said I’d hurt you,” Pidge answered, pinning an unspoken  _ duh _ onto the end of her sentence, and dug her nails into his sides, drawing a whimper. “And I said to shut up, too.” She reminded him, and moved her nails inwards, leaving eight pink lines parallel to the curve of his ribs. “So you’d better listen.” He wasn’t doing very well on that front; her nails dragging across his skin had him gasping and whining loudly. Still, he tried, closing his mouth again and nodding as if to say  _ I can be good, I promise _ . “If I do anything you’re not okay with,” she paused, trying to think of what it was called when people set a secret code word before doing kinky things. As hard as she was trying to play it cool, he was much, much more experienced than she was. “Safeword’s, uh, Zarkon.” 

Lance giggled quietly at that, lips still pressed together, and nodded again.  _ Got it. _

“I hope you know this will not be over quickly. You will not enjoy all of it.” She warned, trying to sound dangerous, and Lance caught onto her ruse immediately.

“Are you just quoting the movie  _ 300  _ at me right now?”

Pidge sighed, defeated for a moment. “Yes.” Then, she shook her head and moved her hands up to pinch his nipples mercilessly. “That doesn’t make it any less true, though. I have a lot of frustration… and you’ve just volunteered to be my punching bag.”

Lance wasn’t even sure what was worse; the potent dose of pain and pleasure her rough treatment of his nipples gave, or the falsely sweet tone her voice adopted while calling him a punching bag. Either way, he was sure his pants were tighter than before, not that his tormentor gave a damn. Pidge had been careful to straddle his waist, not his hips, on purpose. “Well, when your fists are that tiny-” he began, until she pulled her hands towards the sky, making him cut himself off with a small wail.

“You just can’t quit while you’re ahead, can you?” Pidge mused, letting go of his nipples only to pinch them again, this time twisting a little. He had the sense not to answer that, keeping relatively quiet as she continued to torment his nipples. It was probably only five minutes, but it felt like half an hour to Lance before Pidge realized the noises he was making weren’t even whimpers, but  _ moans, _ and let go of him for longer than a second to confirm. Resting one hand on his stomach for balance, the former green paladin twisted to look behind her, and found exactly what she thought she’d find. His jeans were taut, fabric straining over the hard-on underneath. “Oh, wow. You weren’t kidding when you said you wouldn’t mind.” She glanced back at Lance, and his face was notably redder than before. “I have a feeling that didn’t  _ just  _ happen. Am I right? How long have you been this excited? Ever since I came and sat on you?” Lance looked away, and she leaned in to grab his chin and pull him back to facing her. “Answer me.”

“Not  _ that  _ long,” he argued, but he knew he was an awful liar, so he didn’t bother to try hiding the truth entirely. “But, like, a minute after that, when you started with my nipples- yeah.”

Pidge sat back up and put a hand behind her, ever-so-lightly resting it over the tent in his pants. “Put your hands up.” Smiling playfully, he raised them to either side of his head, palms out like he was a mime. Pidge leaned back a little further, quickly shifting from not enough contact to putting too much weight on his confined cock, and he whimpered. “Above your head. I know you know better.”

Somehow, the fact that Pidge could guess exactly what he was into, what he’d gotten up to with previous girlfriends, had Lance feeling more vulnerable than ever, even more than having his hands above his head did. “Gonna tie me up with your wireless headphones?” He sassed her in a vain attempt to regain some control over the situation, knowing there was almost nothing up here that she could use as rope.

“Nope,” the petite girl shrugged and started scratching up and down his abdomen, starting out light enough to tickle and gradually increasing the pressure. “You’re gonna keep them there because I said so.”

“And if I don’t?” His voice was breathless, but there was a certain reckless nerve in it, too, the part of him that immediately wanted to disobey just because he could.

“Move if you wanna find out. But if you want me to so much as consider touching your dick,” she removed her hand from his crotch, and he fidgeted under her, missing the contact even if it was barely contact. “You’ll stay.” With that, she resumed her scratching, harder than before, and didn’t stop until his torso was a patchwork of angry pink and red lines. 

Once she stopped, Lance began working on catching his breath, opened the fists he hadn’t realized he was clenching, and looked up at her hopefully, wordlessly asking,  _ did I do good? _

Pidge didn’t answer him, only crawled up his body like a heavy cat until she was nose-to-nose with him. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” She warned, giving him time to back out as if a kiss, of all things, was crossing the line.

“Do it, then.” Lance shrugged, confused as to why she even felt the need to warn him. When she did kiss him, he understood why; this was just another phase in her torture plan. When he rose to meet her, she pressed his head back down into the concrete, and nipped his lower lip in warning. He went still, but she nipped him again, anyway, just because she wanted to, this time holding on a little longer, pulling back and letting her teeth drag across it. The helpless man moaned at that, and she continued her attack- that is, until she felt hands in her hair.

Pidge pulled away, frowning, and Lance immediately realized his error and returned his hands to their spot above his head, grinning sheepishly. It really was a nice smile, she thought briefly- the kind that made children smile back at him when they were grocery shopping and he said hello, the kind that made terrified alien prisoners trust him immediately, the kind capable of making his friends forgive him for anything… almost. “Don’t bother, Lance.” She sneered and stood up. “I don’t give second chances.”

“Pidge!” He whined, reaching up to grab her calf like it would prevent her from walking away. “Don’t go, I’ll be good! Please!” She hardly acknowledged him, crossing her hands over the hem of her sweater to pull it up over her head. He went quiet after that, though, realizing that he’d misread the situation. She wouldn’t be stripping if she was planning on leaving, after all. Her sweater got tossed aside, and her sneakers kicked off, and then she unbuttoned her baggy jeans and slid them off, too, until she was standing over him naked except for a pair of glasses and a binder. Lance gaped openly at the sight, looking almost devastated.

“What’s the matter?” She tilted her head, peering down at him suspiciously. Pidge refused to let it show, but she was terrified; she knew all too well that Lance’s type was tall, curvy, and powerful, for both men and women, and although she was powerful in a lot of ways… she was none of the other things- not even a man or a woman. Did whatever his orientation was even include agender people? 

“I’m-” he closed his mouth to gulp quickly, his throat suddenly dry. “I feel a little stupid for begging you to stay when you weren’t gonna leave, but mostly I’m so turned on it hurts, ‘cause you’re beautiful, is what’s the matter.” Well, if Lance was nothing else, he was honest. “And I don’t know what you’re planning, but  _ please, do it already. _ ” 

That was all she needed. Grinning, Pidge walked forward, knelt with a knee on either side of his head, and lowered herself until her lips were an inch from his lips. “Last chance, Lancey Lance. If you wanna stop, grab my leg like before. If you’re not backing out… take a deep breath.” She paused a moment to let him decide, and when he notably did not move his hands, she dropped her hips that last inch to smother him with her labia.

This was not Lance’s first time being smothered in pussy, but it was a dream come true every time it happened. He opened his mouth willingly as she sat, angling his head to lick her slit, and found a surprising amount of slick already there. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one enjoying their game, and the knowledge that she’d likely been planning this the entire time made him moan out loud, humming against her folds. 

Pidge shuddered at that, moving a hand down to cover his eyes, of all things. Somehow, she could deal with him seeing her naked- but seeing her squeeze her eyes shut and contort her face in an effort to keep quiet was far too personal. She hadn’t lost control so far, and would not let him see her losing it now.

Lance was admittedly disappointed that he wouldn’t get to look up and watch her expressions as he drove her insane, but he didn’t stop. He only tilted his head up to find her clit and sealed his lips onto it, suckling softly at first to test and tease her. Every girl he’d been with could handle different amounts of pressure, and he had no clue whether she wanted it rough or not. A soft growl from above and an impatient roll of her hips told him she did, so he pressed in closer and sucked like his life depended on it instead. He couldn’t breathe like this, but it didn’t matter; he’d finally drawn a noise that wasn’t an order from the cold, aloof girl, a soft keening moan, and he wanted more.

Every now and then, she had mercy on him and lifted her hips far enough that he could breathe, but only briefly. One, two breaths and she was back, rocking against his tongue more fervently as he sought to push it deeper. It could only do so much, though, so after tonguefucking her until she let him breathe again, he moved back up to swirl his tongue around her clit, and press flat against it, experimenting with every shape and trick he knew until he found one that made her scream.

And, shockingly enough, scream she did. Lance couldn’t see or breathe, but he could hear, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if whoever lived on the top floor of their apartment building would think someone was being tortured on the roof. In a way, someone was, but he wasn’t about to apologize anytime soon. He was lightheaded and warm all over, with a faceful of dripping pussy- he was in heaven, and judging by the way Pidge’s thighs started to shake as she approached nirvana, so was she.

When she came, it was earth-shattering for both of them, Pidge shuddering and crying his name as she bucked against his chin, and Lance driven to the precipice of his own orgasm by the way her legs clamped over his ears and literally smothered all of his senses. Finally, she relaxed and lifted, moving the hand over his eyes up into his hair to pat him like a dog that deserved pets for learning a trick. “Stop, stop,” her voice faded into a hoarse whisper, and though she tried to move further away, she ended up simply sitting on his chest, unable to convince her body to cooperate. “Holy shit.” For now, it was all she could do to remember to breathe.

After catching her breath, she remembered other things existed, and opened her eyes to find Lance beaming up at her, cheshire-like, from between her knees. “What?” she demanded.

“Was that supposed to be a punishment?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to tell me what you thought, request ships, comment your favorite color, whatever! :D


	6. Day 9: Fem!Shklance + Lingerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was lingerie, so of course I had to include these gorgeous ladies... with a side of asphyxiation.  
> Lana is Lance, Keira is Keith, and Shiro is still Shiro bc it’s a last name, but her first name is Taeko in this uwu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, if ladies aren't your cup of tea, we'll be back to your regularly scheduled dicks tomorrow. ;)

 

“So… we can come in?” Lana leaned forwards from the backseat of Shiro’s truck to smile hopefully at the woman in the driver’s seat.

Shiro laughed, like her question was absurd, before answering, “Yes, of course you can. I’m not about to let you drive home like that.”

Keira snickered at that, which of course put Lana on the defensive. “I only had three drinks! And we were there for like two hours!”

“Okay, okay,” Shiro soothed as she unbuckled, then got out and opened Lana’s door for her. She would get both of her dates’ doors, if she could, but Lana happened to be closer, and Keira was already out of the car. “I’m not saying you’re an alcoholic, or anything- I’m just saying, you weigh like ninety pounds, which means three drinks is enough to put you over the legal limit to drive.”

“A hundred and twelve pounds, thank you very much.” Lana argued as she took Shiro’s offered hand and stepped down, but her tone was a little less incendiary than before. She knew the other had a point. “But anyway, I’m super hype, I was so worried this wouldn’t go as well as it did, and I would’ve worn my cutest bra for nothing.” She babbled shamelessly, and grinned when she saw the other two light up red like a pair of emergency flares. “What? Is that not the plan?” 

Shiro couldn’t look at her, thick lips forming a few different shapes before she managed to find the right words. “I mean, if you wanted to, but it’s not like it’s a failed date if we just watch netflix till we fall asleep, either. I don’t mind.”

“I’d mind,” finally, Keira, the quietest of the three, piped up, making Shiro’s blush worse. “If Lana’s got her cutest bra on, I wanna see.” 

Shiro could hardly focus long enough to dig the right key out of her purse, fumbling with the key ring and mumbling,  “My god, you two are gonna be the death of me.”

“Oh, c’mon, Shiro,” Lana grinned, making it even harder for her to focus by resting her chin on the older woman’s shoulder and sliding her hands around her waist. “Don’t act like it didn’t occur to you. I’d bet you’re not wearing a sports bra an’ briefs, either.”

“Well, you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?” Finally, she got the door unlocked, and god bless Keira for pulling Lana off of her so she could walk through the door unhindered.

“Hey-”

“Kinda hard to walk with someone latched onto you like a leech, Lana.”

“Don’t lie to me, baby, you can just admit you were jealous.”

“Fine, I was.” Keira surprised all three of them with that level of honesty, but Lana didn’t make fun of her for it, thankfully. 

She only stepped closer and wrapped her arms around the shorter girl’s waist with a smile and a cheesy line. “There’s enough of me to go around.” She was already the bravest of them in terms of romantic pursuits-- she’d been the one to suggest they all go on a date in the first place-- but with alcohol added to the mix, Lana was downright dangerous. 

So, by the time Shiro had the door closed and locked behind them, she turned around to find the other two kissing like it was their last, and oh, wow, how did breathing work again? Slowly, she walked closer, hypnotized by the sight of the other two pressed against each other hungrily.

Surprisingly, it was Lana who pulled away first, and her eyes were immediately searching for Shiro when she did. She found the other closer than she thought she would, and blinked in surprise before shooting Shiro a salacious smirk. “You want some, too, or were you just planning on watching?” She teased, and the tallest pouted in response, moving to wrap around Keira from behind. 

They were both thin enough that, with her impressive reach, she could still hold Lana’s waist, so that was where one of her hands ended up, but the other slithered between the other two to splay across the naked skin below Keira’s crop top. “Can’t I have both?” She hadn’t answered the question, really, but she leaned in to kiss Lana nonetheless.

Keira had never been very religious, even after one of her foster families dragged her to church every single Sunday for an entire year, but if she ever had to describe a religious experience, she was pretty sure this was it. Even the possibility of being sandwiched between these two charming knockouts was just a fever dream until a few weeks ago, much less being able to watch them make out over her head. “Oh, my god,” she whispered, and the other two broke apart to smile down at her.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Lana ruined the moment, as usual.

“Can you blame me?” Keira half-yelled, escalating unnecessarily- as usual.

Shiro distracted them before the argument went any further, as usual, laughing and leaning in to press her cheek against Keira’s affectionately since there was no easy way to kiss her at this angle. “We’d catch you if you did,” she pointed out. “But I have a better idea. Let go for me, Lana?” She instructed, and once the other obeyed, Keira was literally swept off her feet.

On the one hand, being bridal-carried away to Shiro’s bed was a dream come true, but on the other, Keira had never been known to go quietly when bigger people tried to manhandle her- and  _ everyone  _ was bigger than she was. So, she yelped once her feet left the ground, wriggled, and even threw a few punches. None of it dissuaded the Amazon from holding onto her, nor did it keep Lana from laughing her ass off as she followed them.

“I’m putting this on snapchat,” Naturally, Lana had her phone in her hand by the time Shiro dropped Keira onto her bed, and turned it to show them the picture she’d taken, already adorned with a caption:  _ god I wish that were me. _

“No.” The other two answered in unison, then Shiro changed her mind. “It is cute, though. Save it without posting it.” 

To a certain someone looking for revenge, Lana and her social media addiction was the perfect distraction. Out of nowhere, Keira grabbed Shiro by the front of her black t-shirt and pulled her down, twisting so that she’d wind up on top. It worked perfectly, and if Keira had ever seen anything cuter than Shiro’s surprised expression in that moment, she couldn’t name it. So of course, she had to kiss her. Sliding a hand under her shirt maybe wasn’t as necessary, but she did it anyway. Keira was not a patient woman.

Lana, meanwhile, posted the picture anyway, set her phone somewhere safe, and kicked her heels off before joining the other two on the edge of the bed, straddling Shiro’s legs and gently, reverently tracing Keira’s curves with both hands. She was the shortest of the three, but she was perfectly proportioned, muscular around her shoulders and thighs but soft in all the right places. “God, you’re perfect,” Lana couldn’t help but speak her mind, even if Keira was only dimly aware she existed at the moment. She didn’t take well to being ignored for long, though, so, after her patience ran out, she demanded attention by giving Keira’s ass a nice slap.

The sound she made when she broke away from Shiro was, she later insisted, definitely  _ not  _ a moan, but a surprised noise. “Lana!” She hissed, turning to find the other looking about as unapologetic as one can. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Whatcha gonna do, huh? Spank me back? I hope so.” Lana bit her lip, and Shiro shifted under both of them, interrupting their banter once again.

“Guys, as much as I love having both of you in my lap- my legs are gonna go numb hanging off the end while you argue.” She pointed out, and they all shuffled a bit until all three of them were fully on the bed, no more awkward dangling feet. Somehow, Lana ended up behind her, knees on either side of her hips, whereas Keira had stubbornly kept her spot in her lap. “So, how do you two wa-” she began, until Lana silenced her with a finger over her lips.

“Nah, don’t overthink it, babe.” She instructed, and then moved her hand up to sweep Shiro’s long ponytail over one shoulder, and tilted her head to kiss the other side of her neck.

Shiro melted into the touch, but couldn’t quite let go of her earlier worries. “I’m not, but I want to know-” suddenly, she hissed as Lana nipped her neck. “Don’t bite me, for instance. I wanna know things like that.”

“Okay.” Lana hummed simply, and moved to rest her hands on Shiro’s waist.

“There.” Keira smiled, leaning in and taking Shiro’s hands sweetly. “It’s that simple. Any other rules we should know?”

Shiro couldn’t think straight- Lana had moved her hands to her back, tracing gentle swirls, and continued to work on covering the pale skin of her neck in pink lipstick marks. “I don’t-” she gasped as the girl behind her found a sensitive spot. “I don’t like pain in general.”

“Okay.” Keira echoed Lana’s earlier statement, and then boldly raised their joined hands to place the other’s on her chest. “For the record, I do.” And with that, Keira reclaimed her lips, and Shiro was successfully convinced to stop thinking so much. Instead, she gave Keira’s chest an appreciative squeeze, and groaned softly at Lana’s warm hands running up her back.

Lana quickly decided that, as nice as it was watching them kiss, they were all wearing too many clothes, especially the one in the middle. So, she gently took Shiro’s hands away from Keira’s breasts to slide her jacket off of her shoulders, and then, while she was at it, hooked her fingers under the black shirt under it and pulled it up over her head. “I called it,” she pointed out, pleasantly unsurprised to find a silky black cage bra adorning her chest. “Very nice.”

“Glad you think so,” Shiro grinned, reaching up to pull Keira’s crop top off as soon as she had her hands back. The other had been wearing a leather jacket when they walked in, too, but neither could remember exactly when it was lost. It didn’t matter; more importantly, once she lost her shirt, Keira was naked from the waist up, and the way the other two were gaping didn’t make her feel very confident about that choice.

“What?” she demanded, and Lana bit her own lower lip.

“You’re hot as fuck, is what.” Lana managed eventually.

Shiro didn’t have a verbal answer for her, only an impulse to put her mouth on the other’s now-naked chest, and she followed it. She kissed a trail from her collarbone to her left nipple and took it between her lips, rewarded with increasingly loud moans as she went.

Lana followed her lead; if second base was where they were, she had no reason not to reach around and squeeze Shiro’s tits, groping and hefting them a bit before deciding the pretty bra was in her way. It came off in seconds, and Lana’s hands were back on her tits, this time tracing circles around her nipples ever so slowly. Even if she couldn’t touch Keira at all from where she was, she was still confident that she could take Shiro apart with her hands. 

She was right; the older girl moaned at the soft touches, and the vibrations of her lips on Keira’s chest had Keira echoing her debauched sounds immediately afterwards. “Shir- Taeko, stop,” Keira finally gasped, and the other pulled back, concerned she’d done something wrong. Rather than explaining, though, the other leaned back until she fell onto her back and put her legs in the air. Showing off a little, she lifted her feet up above her own head to kick her boots off, then kept her toes pointed at the ceiling as she unbuttoned her own jeans. Shiro wasn’t content to sit back and watch her little show, though; once the jeans were undone, she leaned forward to pull them off of her.

“Hot damn,” Lana breathed.

Shiro was more pragmatic, if just as starstruck. “Back on my lap, now.” She ordered, and a visible shiver rattled its way down Keira’s spine at her tone. Clearly, Shiro wasn’t nervous anymore.

“Yes, ma’am.” Keira answered, and did move back to the other’s lap, already breathing heavy with anticipation.

Shiro could feel her thighs tense and relax and tense again under her hands as she struggled to keep her cool. “Are you nervous?” She knew the answer already, but she had to be sure.

“No,” Keira answered definitively. “Impatient.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Shiro hummed, eyes trailing down the other’s naked body as her left hand trailed up her inner thigh. “I’ve been waiting a long time, too, and now that I have you? I’m gonna savor this.” 

Lana piped up from behind her, hands sliding down to the tops of Shiro’s thighs. “Don’t savor her  _ too  _ long, though. It’s your turn next.” Keira briefly wondered who she thought she was, deciding the order of things, but then again, if that meant she was first, she didn’t give a damn.

“Will you just touch me already?” She pushed forward and grabbed Shiro’s hand to pull it higher, bossy.

Shiro didn’t take well to being told what to do, though, so she took Keira’s hands and put them over her own shoulders. “Hold them for me, will you, Lana?”

“Mhmm.” Lana was all too happy to oblige, clasping one hand sweetly while the other grabbed Keira’s left wrist. Keira pouted at that, until Lana made her intentions obvious. She kissed her palm first, then each fingertip, only to take her index finger between her lips and suck gently like it was something else.

“Oh, god,” Keira whispered, transfixed. Something as innocuous as licking her fingers had no right to be so hot- especially when she was being nasty, guiding Keira’s wet fingertip across her lips like it was chapstick. She couldn’t keep her attention on Lana for long, though, because Shiro’s fingers had finally reached the apex of her legs after teasing at her thighs for what felt like years, and were gingerly tracing the shape of her lips like they had taste buds.

“So wet for me,” Shiro hummed appreciatively, dipping her head to kiss Keira’s neck, and Keira bucked slightly, trying to push the other’s fingers closer to where she needed them. “Ah-ah, not yet.” Her right hand moved to hold the impatient girl still, clamping down on her left hip like a vice. Keira whined, but it only encouraged Shiro to tease her more, rubbing her lips almost ticklishly until she was shaking. Finally, she delved her fingers between them to find her clit, and rubbed gentle circles around it, luxuriating in the way Keira moaned right into her ear.

The poor thing was hardly coherent, but she did manage one word among all the desperate sounds she was making. “Harder.”

Shiro listened, curling her fingers to press up against the little button, and Lana hummed deep in her throat. “Ooh, she likes that. She’s about to break my hand if you keep teasing her, though.” 

“Be kind to Lana, Keira. She’ll need those hands, later.”

“Fuck,” Keira gasped, “you. St-stop, fucking teasing me.” It seemed she’d reached the limit of Keira’s patience, so Shiro obliged, sliding her hand lower to slide two fingers into her dripping cunt. She hardly had to move her hand, and the impatient girl rode her fingers, voice crescendoing nearly to a scream once she added a third.

“Oh, fuck,” Lana moaned, as if she was the one getting fucked, and pulled Keira closer by her left wrist. “Kiss me, please, now.” She said urgently, and Keira did, leaning forward to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss. 

Lana was incredibly affected by watching her, and it was obvious in the way she moved; Shiro could feel her fidgeting behind her, rolling her hips in search of something that wasn’t there. She was glad she’d told her to hold Keira’s hands still; otherwise, she was sure Lana would have them between her own legs. Not bothering to hold Keira still anymore, Shiro raised her free hand to one of her tits, pinching and pulling mercilessly. In seconds, it all became too much, and Keira broke, her entire body quivering and her head tilting back in a silent scream as her orgasm shook her like a leaf. Lana and Shiro didn’t even realize it, but they watched her fall apart with identical expressions, mouth agape and eyes blown wide with desire.

Eventually, Keira caught her breath, and Shiro pulled her hands away once she calmed down, giving her space. Instead of moving away as expected, though, Keira pressed closer, gently shaking Lana’s hands off of hers so she could wrap her arms around Shiro’s shoulders. “Oh, my god.” She kept whispering, like she couldn’t even believe that had happened, and Lana smiled sweetly, finger-combing her long bangs away from her sweaty face.

“That was beautiful.” Lana marveled, and Shiro had to agree, nodding as she wrapped her arms around Keira’s waist.

“Definitely.” She paused, patting the cuddly girl. “You okay, Keira?”

“Mhmm.” Keira nodded. “I dunno where my legs are, but I’m okay.” That had the other two laughing, but she didn’t bristle at that like she usually would. She knew it was funny; she knew they weren’t laughing at her maliciously. She felt that they loved her. She could probably just die happy.

After half a minute of just cuddling and letting Keira bask in her afterglow, Lana finally said what they were all thinking. “So… you and I are wearing too many clothes still, Taeko.”

“You’re right about that. Especially when Keira’s a million degrees right now.” Shiro teased, and twisted to lay the other on her side on the bed.

“Your fault.” Keira argued lazily, but in truth, she was happy to relax on the side while the other two rearranged themselves.

“Stay,” Lana put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, and moved around to kneel in front of her, sealing their lips together at the first opportunity. Shiro made a small sound of surprise, but gladly accepted it, even as Lana pressed a hand to her chest to lay her down onto her back. Once that was accomplished, her hands danced down to undress her, hooking into the hem of her skintight black pants and pulling them off. A black thong, with a pretty bow at the top, laid under them, and Lana placed a kiss just beneath the little bow.

“Lana, wait.” Shiro protested, and the other frowned up at her from between her legs. “You’re still fully clothed.”

She was right, and somehow, Lana glanced down at herself as if she hadn’t noticed… only to look back up with a devilish glint in her bright blue eyes. “So, do something about it, Koko.”

Taeko could already count the people who were allowed to call her by her first name on one hand; the list of people who were allowed to go even farther and nickname her was nonexistent, that is, until Lana came along. Making a mental note to complain about what a cheesy nickname ‘coco’ was later, Shiro sat up and took her challenge gladly, grabbing the hem of Lana’s lovely lace-trimmed blue dress and pulling it up over her head. After she did, though, she froze, appreciating the view. A sky-blue bra trimmed with white lace and a pair of matching panties, skimpy enough that they hardly counted as panties, contrasted her tan skin beautifully, and matched the white thigh-highs she was wearing perfectly, too. 

“Holy shit,” Keira sat up to look, too, and said exactly what Shiro was thinking. “You were right; it would’ve been a shame to keep your clothes on tonight.”

“Yeah. I think…” Shiro spoke up, hooking a finger beneath the gore of Lana’s bra to pull her closer. “I’m gonna leave these on, though, for now.” And then Lana was pulled into another heated kiss, and she gladly submitted, falling into Shiro’s arms. 

She was still beyond worked up from watching her fuck Keira, though, so Lana had no time for long, languorous kisses; she soon pulled away to attack the other’s neck with quick, wet kisses, and kept on going. She paused at her chest, licking and sucking at her nipples until Shiro was arching under her, pushing at her shoulders to urge her lower, lower. She gave Shiro’s lovely abs the attention they deserved, tracing each ridge of her body with her tongue, and finally, she ended knelt between her legs, pressing her lips to Shiro’s thighs reverently. She spared her mound a kiss, too, but without moving her panties out of the way. She might have teased Shiro a little longer, but the older girl wasn’t having it, and reached down to pull her own underwear off. Lana actually licked her lips when she saw it, regarding her like a starving person looks at a buffet, and god, if that look didn’t do things to Shiro. “Are you gonna keep staring, or?” She shifted, impatient without being rude. She could order Keira around when it was for Keira’s own good, but demanding her own pleasure felt too selfish.

“Sorry.” Lana glanced up at her sheepishly and admitted, “I’ve been waiting so long to taste you.” Shiro’s cheeks darkened rather prettily at that, and Lana smiled before closing her eyes and leaning down to do just what she’d said. She began with a soft, broad lick, then raised a hand to push her lips apart a little and flicked her tongue across her clit, drawing appreciative noises from the older girl. 

Keira watched for a little while, impressed with how quickly Lana took Shiro, who was always composed, always in control, down a notch. After a minute, though, she decided there was no reason why she shouldn’t be involved, and she rolled closer to press against Shiro’s side, hooking her leg around one of the other’s to pull them a little wider, open her to Lana a little more.

“Keira-” Shiro’s eyes flew open, but the troublemaker shushed her with her lips before she could say anything else. 

Seeing how emphatically Shiro responded to Lana trailing smooches across her neck earlier, she soon broke away to copy that, and then pulled away entirely, watching her expressions. “God, you look so good like this.” She murmured, trailing a hand down to flick and pinch her nipples a little. “If Lana’s half as good with her mouth as she says she is, you must be close, huh?” 

Shiro agreed with a soft whine, and Lana moaned against her in response, sending vibrations thrumming through her sex. “Oh, god, yes- moan for me, Lana, yes-” one arm was around Keira, but the other went down to stroke Lana’s soft hair, gently pressing her closer, asking for more.

Lana listened, but she didn’t like faking it, so she broke away to look up at the other two. “Pull it,” she told Shiro, then turned to Keira, eyes begging before she even opened her mouth. “Keira, I need- I’m so wet I’m gonna  _ die _ . Please, please-”

“Okay, I’ve got you, babe.” Keira agreed quickly, detangling herself from Shiro. “Don’t stop, though.”

Shiro, unsurprisingly, agreed with that fervently. “Yes, don’t stop yet, please-” she cut herself off with a loud groan once Lana obeyed and immediately returned to tonguefucking her.

Keira crawled to the end of the bed and grabbed Lana’s hips a little roughly; it was mostly because she had to have a good grip, if she planned on lifting them up, but then the other moaned and arched in response, and she grinned, squeezing tighter until her nails dug into Lana’s skin a little. “You like that?” Lana answered only with another moan, causing Shiro to echo it back. Keira honestly wasn’t surprised to find that Lana liked it rough- but she was thrilled to have her suspicions confirmed, anyway. Rather than touching her immediately, she pulled her hand back and slapped Lana’s nearly-bare ass hard, causing the other to break away from Shiro just to gasp. Shiro quickly pulled her back, though, no longer afraid of coming off as greedy. It felt too good, and Lana didn’t mind, anyway- she hummed pleasantly every time her hair was pulled.

Lana could feel her attention slipping as Keira played with her ass, so she did her best to refocus herself, moving her hand down to finger Shiro’s cunt and curling her fingers to try and find that sweet spot she knew would have the other screaming. When Keira slipped a hand between her legs to rub her through the thin fabric of her panties, though, she paused, rocking back towards the soft touch with a soft, “please!”

“No, no.” Keira chided, pushing her forward slightly. “Make her cum first. You’re the one that said it was her turn next, aren’t you? Go on.” She urged, and Lana obeyed, moving her fingers faster and harder than before.

Shiro didn’t come quietly like Keira had; just before it hit her, she pulled Lana in more roughly than before, and her thighs tensed for the last time, trapping the other’s head exactly where it was until she stopped screaming Lana’s name. Lana couldn’t breathe, so by the time Shiro relaxed enough for her to escape, she came up gasping.

“Oh, god-” Shiro gasped, stroking Lana’s hair softly in apology. “I’m so sorry, baby- I got overexcited and pulled way too hard- are you okay?”

“I’m so okay,” Lana panted, “I’m so okay I nearly just- came with you. That was perfect.” Thrilled that she hadn’t actually hurt her, Shiro pulled her down for a messy kiss, tasting her own essence on her lips. Keira came along, laying on her side once more and pulling Lana into another kiss as soon as Shiro released her. Tasting slick on her lips was hotter than it had any right to be, and Keira hummed against her, taking Lana’s hand to pull it towards herself. When she realized what her intentions were, Lana broke the kiss to raise an eyebrow at her. “Again?”

“You two put on a great show.” She defended, but Lana pulled her hand back.

“Greedy.” She teased. “I still didn’t get fucked- but you can sit on my face while Taeko does, if she’s down.” She offered, glancing over at the quiet one for confirmation.

Shiro shook her head. “I wanna watch you lose your fuckin’ mind.” She grinned, “and I can’t do that if your face is covered.”

Lana sighed, shamelessly rutting against Shiro’s thigh when she found it right behind her. “Do it, then- I  _ need  _ it.” Before they could move, Keira was up on her knees again, nudging Shiro’s leg out of the way so she could pull Lana’s pretty panties off.

“What do you think, Taeko?” She mused, “Should I let her come now, or tease her half to death first?”

Lana whimpered, and Shiro chuckled, petting her hair gently. “She’s already been teased half to death by watching us, the little voyeur.” She pointed out, then reconsidered, and asked Lana’s opinion. “But it’s not the end of the world if Keira teases a little, is it?”

“Well, no,” Lana admitted, and hated herself for it.

“What a sucker for punishment.” Keira commented, starting to play with her clit first. She loved using all kinds of unnecessary roughness, sure, but for now, she stuck to light, barely-there touches. Lana had soaked through her underwear by the time Keira took them off; she was worked up enough that it would be harder to convince her not to finish than it would be to finish her. “Pull her hair again,” she suggested, and when Shiro listened, Lana reacted loudly, hands fisting the sheets below.

Shiro was as thrilled as Keira was to go on a scavenger hunt for all the poor girl’s kinks, but first, she reached around to her back and unhooked her bra. Lana’s breasts weren’t nearly as impressive as Shiro’s, or as bouncy as Keira’s, but they still deserved attention. “Should I be mean to these, too, then?” She questioned, rolling the other’s pert nipples between her fingers slowly at first. Lana couldn’t look at her, her bright blue eyes sealed shut as her face burned pink, but she nodded. Shiro wouldn’t soon forget the sound Lana made when her nipples were twisted, and immediately did it again, tormenting her.

Meanwhile, Keira had gradually upped the pressure on her most sensitive spot, but every time Lana started breathing fast like she was about to come, she stopped entirely. It was killing her, her body becoming more sensitive with each denial, and eventually, she started wriggling, pulling away from the other’s probing fingers even though she wanted them. “Taeko,” Keira tilted her head to catch the other’s eye, “I think you need to switch. She won’t stay still… and I don’t think she’d mind being held down, would she?”

Lana shook her head quickly, and then yelped as Shiro flipped their positions suddenly, throwing her onto her back like she weighed nothing. “Guys-” She whined, fidgeting until a hand on her hip and two on her shoulders held her still. “Please just fuck me already, I need something in me-”

Again, Keira surprised her with her blunt simplicity, settling between her legs and pushing a couple fingers into her immediately. “Okay. Anything else you need?”

“M-more,” Lana groaned, already breathless, and grabbed onto Shiro’s solid forearms for stability. Keira added a third finger and started to move, pushing as deep as possible and angling her hand up to press her thumb against her clit as she went. In less than a minute, Lana was a gasping mess of nonsense words, cursing and begging, “Fuckfuckfuck don’t stop, Kei- oh, god, never stop- Taeko, h-hurt me.” She stammered, shame having flown out the window to make space for the lust ballooning inside her. Shiro faltered, unsure of what she meant exactly- did she want to be scratched? Hit? Have her hair pulled again? Apparently, her hesitation took too long, and Lana changed her mind, pulling her hand away from her shoulder and towards her neck. “Choke me.”

Well, that was more specific. That, she could do. Shiro obliged, but not before assuring her, “when you want me to let go, let go of my hand. Okay?” Lana nodded, a wild grin on her face. She was more excited than scared, and it worried Shiro a little, but they were too far gone now. Besides, she knew this wasn’t Lana’s first time; someone else had probably already explored her limits with her. So, she gripped the other’s throat firmly and leaned in a little to cut off her air supply.

Lana’s eyes rolled back and she came harder than she thought humanly possible, losing track of time and space for a full minute- maybe two?- before coming back to her senses. From Shiro and Keira’s point of view, it looked like she was about to  _ die _ of sheer ecstasy, every muscle in her body succumbing to the waves of pleasure that overtook her.

Shiro loosened her grip after about thirty seconds, terrified of hurting her, but Keira didn’t stop moving until Lana rasped, “s-stop, stop.” 

She pulled out slow, and grinned as she held up her hand, watching the other’s juices literally drip down past her wrist. “Damn. I think we killed her.” She joked with a light laugh, and she was half right; Lana was deathly still, too exhausted to move.

“Lana? Lana, baby, you okay?” Shiro didn’t think it was funny, and was regarding the other like a nurse, thumbing one eyelid open to check that she was responsive to light and bending close to check that che was breathing.

Lana let out an odd giggle, nearly a cough, and shook her head like she was shaking off flies. “Nope, yall killed me. ‘M dead.” She teased, blinking a few times as if keeping her eyes open was a lot of work. She won that argument, though, and finally managed to focus on Keira. “You still wanna sit on my face?”

Keira grinned. “Yeah, she’s fine. Already back to being a horny little shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment what you thought, what you want in future chapters, what you want out of life, idk. Talk to me. :D


	7. Days 10&11: Edgeplay + Sadism/Masochism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Klance, vol. 2: again, with fire!  
> (Oh, was it supposed to be "again, with feeling"?)  
> Although day 10 didn't name fireplay specifically, it falls under the umbrella of edgeplay, because it's not super 'safe and sane' even though it's consensual, and that's the BDSM motto- Safe, Sane, Consensual.  
> Combined day 10&11 because that student struggle, I really should be writing papers, not porn, lmao.

“Listen, I know you have like, violent tendencies, and I don’t mind that. You know I’m into weird shit, too. But I’m really not sure how to react to learning that you wanna set me on fire.” 

“For the last time, I  _ don’t  _ want to set you on fire. That’s not how it works.” 

“Okay, well, then, explain to me how it works, ‘cause this is a box of lighters and flammable chemicals!” Lance gestured at the box sitting on the floor between them, an innocent toolbox filled with what, to him, looked like serial arsonist materials.

Keith picked up a bottle of the box, and gestured at it emphatically. “You say ‘flammable chemicals’ like you just found napalm in my room! This is household alcohol, the same kind you’d use to clean a cut, or take nail polish off.” He explained, and then dropped it back into the box to cross his arms. “This was why it was hidden, you nosy little shit. You don’t understand.”

“Alright, cool it, hot topic.” Lance gestured downwards with open hands. “You’re right, I don’t understand, that’s why I’m asking questions, because I want to know why my boyfriend would have a… collection like this.”

“Because, it’s… you know, for the same reason you own thigh highs and a garter belt despite being a grown-ass man.”

“Excuse you, that’s totally normal! Have you ever been to a pride parade? Everyone is wearing thigh highs and garter belts.”

“For the record, of course I have, and no, everyone isn’t wearing that, only the twinks are.” Lance gasped in offense, about to continue the tangential argument, but Keith cut him off. “But that’s not the point! My point is, I love seeing you in thigh highs and garter belts. It’s weird to most people, but we like it, so that’s what matters, right?”

Lance scowled, sulking about the twink comment, but he had to admit Keith was on the right track, here. “Right.”

“So, same with this. You don’t have to play with fire because I like playing with fire, I get that it scares most people- but you don’t get to judge me for it, either.”

Lance continued sulking, arms crossed petulantly, even as he thought it over. It took a minute, but he began to see the other’s point. “Okay. I won’t judge you for it. But two things: one, I am not a twink, and two, I am not scared of anything. Just confused. How is getting burnt a kink?”

Keith’s eyes lit up ever so subtly, intrigued by the idea that Lance wasn’t actually averse to this. “That’s the thing- you don’t get burnt if your top does it right.” He explained, and held out his hand for one of Lance’s. “Give me your hand.” Lance’s eyebrows raised about as high as was humanly possible, and Keith sighed. “C’mon. You said you weren’t scared. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Lance’s frown only deepened. 

“So give me your hand. I won’t burn you, I promise.” He looked entirely earnest, not a hint of mischief in his eyes, and Lance couldn’t help but give in. Keith was plenty of fucked-up things, but he was not a liar. He gave over his left hand, and Keith smiled, laying it in his own lap palm-up so he could go about setting it all up. “So, you take one of these,” he plucked a small, almost spherical glass jar out of the box and poured alcohol into it. “And two cotton torches,” he picked up a tool, slightly longer than a pencil, with an oversized cotton swab on the end.

“A torch, huh?” Lance gave a lopsided smile, falling back into his usual snark. “That’s a pretty glorified name for a cotton ball on a stick.” 

“Yeah, alright, shut up.” Keith grumbled, but there was no vitriol in it. “You take two of these and dip them in there,” he explained, dropping two of the so-called torches into the cup of alcohol, “and then get your lighter.” It was almost mesmerizing, watching the methodical way he set it all up- like those hypnotic paint-mixing videos Keith loved so much. After flicking his lighter open with his left hand, he picked up both cotton torches with his right, holding them apart with one between his pinky and ring finger, and the other between his index and middle finger. “Light one of them,” he explained as he did so, and dropped the lighter into his lap to take the lit torch in his left hand. “Trace a line, or whatever other shape-” he grinned and drew a K on Lance’s arm, “in alcohol, then, while it’s wet-” without warning, he touched the lit torch to his boyfriend’s skin, and Lance flinched, expecting to be burned. 

It didn’t, though. The alcohol lit up without ever letting the fire touch his skin, and Lance gasped. “Whoa, it’s warm.” 

Keith only let it burn for a second or two, though, before dropping the unlit torch back in its cup and smoothing his hand over the flame to extinguish it. “Yes, fire is warm, great observation, sweetie.” He joked and blew out the lit torch, grinning at the conflicted expression on Lance’s face. 

Lance hated when Keith was right. Not only did he hate admitting he himself was wrong, but the other had a tendency to milk it, too, just like he was doing right now. Worst of all, that cocky grin on his face looked even better on him than a skintight anime-ninja jumpsuit did. (Thanks to last Halloween, Lance would know.) “Quit that.” He lifted his hand out of Keith’s lap to point at him.

“Quit what?” There were any number of things he could be doing to irritate Lance at the moment, and he knew it. Smiling, giving him a new kink, existing, etc.

“Lookin’ like that.” He answered, and Keith tilted his head.

“Mmm, even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“You fuckin-” Lance moved his weight forward suddenly, like he was about to tackle him, but Keith held his hands up and stopped him.

“Wait wait wait! You know I’m always down to fight, but there’s a glass things full of flammable shit between us.” 

Lance pursed his lips, vaguely impressed. “Since when do you think before you do anything?” He wondered, and Keith shrugged, picking up the glass.

“These were expensive?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “That makes it even dumber that you have like, twenty of them. Why, if you’re just gonna fill one with alcohol?”

Keith’s lower lip disappeared between his teeth, and Lance began to wonder how many things he was going to learn that night. “You really wanna find out?”

 

Minutes later, Lance was glad they lived alone,because laying on the kitchen table in his underwear, with the contents of Keith’s fire kit on the table next to him, would be very difficult to explain to a roommate. “So,” Keith mused, his voice lowered into an almost-purr with excitement. “If I do it on your back, it’ll hurt less, but if you like it and get hard, it’s gonna hurt laying on the table. But, if I do it on your front, it’ll hurt way more. I’ll let you choose.” 

Lance thought about it for a moment, and then bravely laid on his back. “I’m callin’ red if you set my nipples on fire, or something,” he warned. “Be nice.” 

Keith bent to kiss him, careful not to knock over the things next to him, and grinned. “I won’t.” 

Lance smiled back, but it quickly faded into a frown when he realized the loophole he’d created. “Wait, you won’t be nice? Or you won’t set my nipples on fire?” He asked, and Keith conveniently dodged the question.

“I’m starting the scene now,” he smoothed a hand up the center line of Lance’s naked abdomen. “Any objections?”

Lots of them. “No.”

“Good boy,” Keith’s hand had reached his neck, and he let it lay there a moment, feeling Lance’s pulse quicken under his fingers. “Now, be quiet until I ask you a question, or I will deliberately set your nipples on fire.” The other’s lovely blue eyes widened up at him, his head tilting as if to say _ tell me you’re joking _ , but Keith did no such thing. He simply let go of Lance’s neck and went about setting up his two torches as before. 

This time, the line he drew on the other’s skin was a simple, straight, horizontal one across his chest, a few inches above his nipples as promised. When he lit it, though, Lance wasn’t sure which scared him more- having it nearer to the sensitive parts of his chest, or nearer to his face. He watched with huge eyes, hands opening and closing, and Keith noticed them twitching. After extinguishing the flame with a gloved hand, he frowned down at Lance. “Don’t move.” He ordered, and then drew another horizontal line just below the other, and touched the flame to it gently, watching with unabashed delight as he lit up with a soft  _ poof _ . “It’s pretty, ain’t it?” he commented, and Lance only nodded, which, incidentally, was the wrong answer. Keith swiped his hand over the flame to put it out, and then immediately brought his hand a little lower to pinch Lance’s left nipple roughly. “I asked you a question, Lance.” He reminded.

Apparently, the order not to speak unless asked a question went both ways; he was not to stay silent when asked a question, either. “It is!” Lance’s voice was a full octave higher than normal, trying unsuccessfully to hide the pain. “It is pretty. Please, let go.” he should have known better than to ask Keith to do anything. 

Instead of letting go, Keith doubled the pain, blowing the torch in his free hand out to set it down and pinch Lance’s other nipple. “What was that?”

“Nothing, never mind.” Lance folded, his voice still strained, and Keith decided to have mercy and reward him for submitting so easily. 

“Thought so.” Keith re-lit his torch and spent the next five minutes striping Lance’s body with flames and putting them out, alternating horizontal and vertical except to draw a lovely diagonal from his pec to his ribs. 

Lance felt almost like he was watching a circus fire-juggler, heart racing, but he  _ was  _ the fire show, and somehow, that was even better. “Keith?” he spoke up, knowing he’d be punished for it, but he had to know. 

Frowning at his insubordination, Keith dipped his unlit torch into the alcohol, traced a pair of circles around his nipples, made pointed eye contact with Lance, and lit them before answering. “Yes? I’d talk fast, if I was you.” 

Lance whimpered, and then managed, “this is really cool but it doesn’t hurt?”

Keith slapped his palm onto both circles to snuff them, and licked his lips before smiling. “No, this part doesn’t. Why, did you want it to?” He lowered his lit torch close to Lance’s chest, and without any alcohol in the way, the heat became uncomfortable pretty quickly.

“No- well, kinda, yeah, but not like this-” Lance stammered, and Keith moved the fire away from his skin with a chuckle.

“I know.” He paused, dropping the unlit torch into its glass of alcohol and picking up one of the empty glasses. “I just like fuckin’ with you. Now, if you’re so eager to get hurt- chest or thigh?”

“Does it leave a mark?” Lance dodged his question with another question, and he knew even before Keith spoke that he shouldn’t have.

“Yes, but since you didn’t answer my question, you don’t get to pick anymore.” It was definitely not a question, and Lance was already in trouble, so he simply pressed his lips together anxiously while Keith prepared the glass in his hand. He couldn’t really fathom why, but he was swirling the lit torch on the inside of it as if warming it. Then, without warning, he stopped and slapped the open end onto Lance’s chest, just over his heart. It latched on, and began to suck the skin beneath into it, forming a soft dome. “See, hot air expands.” Keith explained, already picking up another cup to prepare another. “And when you take the fire out of it, the air gets smaller again. So it tries to fill the space.” He popped another onto the other side of Lance’s chest, and relished in the noises his poor boyfriend was making. “Yeah, and it hurts.” He stated the obvious, watching the skin under the glasses turn from tan, to pink, and finally, purple. “You haven’t called red yet, though- not even yellow. So you can handle another one.” He decided, and after preparing another, planted it just above Lance’s left hip and followed it with another symmetrical twin. “Maybe two. What do you think, baby? All fourteen?”

“No, no, no,” Lance moaned, shaking his head, and Keith responded by picking up another cup and beginning to prepare it. 

“I think you can handle at least half.” He nodded, sticking another to his chest, dead center, and nudged his legs apart. “Open.” Despite his earlier refusal, Lance obeyed, and Keith was high on the surge of power that brought. There was always something intoxicating about pushing his lover’s limits. If Lance cried yellow or red, he  _ never _ continued, but ‘no’ didn’t mean the same thing to them that it did to most people. Coming from his favorite masochist, it meant  _ god, it hurts, don’t stop. _ So, he didn’t hesitate to slap the last two cups onto his inner thighs for his total of seven. Three on his chest, one on each hip, one on each thigh. “Breathe, baby.” He cooed, and Lance let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and took another deep breath. “I’m proud of you.” He blew out his torch and set it down, walking up to run a hand through Lance’s hair. “You thought you couldn’t… but you always take more than you say you can. Why?”

Lance opened his eyes to look up at his lover when he felt a hand in his hair, and said the first thing that came to mind. “Because you want me to.”

God, Lance knew exactly what to say to feed his ego. “What a suck-up.” He teased, but soothed his jab with a kiss, and Lance moaned into it. After a couple minutes of making out, Keith sat up to start pulling the cups away, figuring they’d cooled enough to move. It still involved a bit of sliding and easing it off, though, and the feeling of the hard edges sliding over his tender, bruised skin had Lance whining in some cases, wailing in others. “Oooh, ouch. That’s a pretty mark, though.” Keith commented, impartial to his dramatic lover’s screams, and kept pulling the cups off until Lance was free.

Having the cups off of him didn’t mean the skin under them wasn’t wrecked, though, and when Keith pressed his fingers against the perfectly-circular bruise on his thigh, Lance screamed and bucked his hips. Whether he was trying to escape or search for more stimulation was unclear.

Keith decided he needed to stay still, and climbed onto the table to hold him down with his own weight, his own barely-clothed erection laying heavily on top of Lance’s. He’d stripped down to his underwear to play, too, even if it was unnecessary.

Lance panted and shifted eagerly; this was the best part. He had questions, and looked up at the other with a pleading in his eyes, but Keith wouldn’t lift the ‘no talking’ rule. “Don’t look at me like that,” he shook his head, even as he rolled his hips, grinding against him. “Yes, I still expect you to stay quiet. If you make a sound, I’ll stop- and you’ll suck my dick instead.” Lance raised an eyebrow and smiled mischievously, questioning him without ever saying a word. Was that really a threat? His oral fixation was no secret.

Keith simply responded by pressing his thumb just above his lover’s hip, in the center of the bruise there, and grinned when Lance gasped, hands flying to his own mouth to keep himself from crying out. “See?” Keith sneered. “You do want to listen to me. Otherwise, you’d have screamed just now.” 

He had a point; Lance knew all too well that when his boyfriend was in this dominant headspace, he wouldn’t make a blowjob a quick or playful affair. Lance would end up with hands around his neck, tears in his eyes, and cum on his face before Keith ever  _ considered  _ touching him, and- actually, on second thought, “I  _ don’t  _ want to listen to you.” 

The warm flames that had danced across his chest earlier were nothing compared to the fire in Keith’s eyes when his control was challenged. It was the kind of fire that could level forests and buildings, and send Lance’s heart racing like a spooked rabbit. “Fine.” He spat, and hopped off the table gracefully. Before the other could move, Keith grabbed his legs to swing them over the edge of the table, pulled him to his feet by both arms, and then pushed him to his knees. 

Lance grunted as he was abruptly repositioned, cringing at the bruises he was sure would form on his knees, but he still mustered a smirk for his lover. He was right in thinking Keith was going to be rough with him, and he was going to love it.

“Open up, slut.” Keith ordered, a hand on Lance’s jaw already, and snickered at the way that smirk slid off his face before he obeyed. “What, you don’t like being called a slut?” He taunted, still holding Lance’s jaw in one hand as the other hand worked to free his own arousal.

“You already know I don’t, asshole.” Lance goaded, fully aware he was making things worse.

When Keith lost patience with him and shoved his cock into his mouth far enough to gag him on the first stroke, it was hardly a surprise. “If you don’t wanna be called a slut, don’t act like one.” He moved his hand from Lance’s jaw to put it on the back of his head, fingers curling to find purchase in his short hair. As mean as he wanted to be, he knew even a cocksucker like Lance had limits, so he pulled back to let him breathe, checking his reaction. It was all a game- and if they weren’t both enjoying it, he would tone it down.

Lance looked up at him, pushed his tongue out, and leaned in to rub it against the underside of Keith’s cock without breaking eye contact.

Clearly, he was fine, and Keith grinned, satisfied that he was proven right; Lance was acting like a slut on purpose. He felt no need to say so, though. He found it far more important to push Lance’s head forward- a little slower this time, but not by much- until his nose was nestled in the fuzzy black hair between his navel and his cock. 

Lance struggled at first, gagging as usual, and Keith didn’t do much to help. Keith started moving before he had fully adjusted, relishing in the nasty noises his throat made as the bruised man attempted to force himself to relax. After he overcame the instinctual panic that came with being gagged by cock, he laid his hands on Keith’s thighs, but not to push him away. He was actually steadying himself to lean in further, meeting him halfway and moaning around him to finish him that much faster.

They both knew it wouldn’t take long, after spending all that time torturing his lover. Keith didn’t want it to end so quickly, though, so every few strokes, he held Lance in place, watching him choke. Lance never resisted, and did himself one better once he realized the other was using these as a stalling mechanism: the third or fourth time Keith held him down, he looked up at him instead of closing his eyes, and swallowed. Although uncomfortable, it was well worth it for the way Keith shuddered and cursed under his breath, breathing slowly to try and keep himself calm.

Somehow, like everything else, they had made this into a fight, but if Keith’s goal was to last a long time, he was bound to lose. Lance prided himself on giving the best head anyone had ever gotten, and even if he tended to exaggerate on that point, he was mostly right. It wasn’t entirely skill, though; part of it was just his personality. He was stubborn enough to ignore the tears streaming down his own face in favor of swallowing around Keith’s cock, and masochistic enough that, even when freed from it, he came away moaning as much as gasping for breath.

Lance probably would have let him torment the both of them all evening, but Keith’s patience was much shorter than his boyfriend’s. He couldn’t wait any longer, so he stopped bothering with holding him down, and instead held him perfectly still so that he could buck in and out at whatever pace he wanted, fucking his face even rougher than before.

Lance knew he’d have a bit of a sore throat after being treated this way, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He relaxed into the other’s hold, falling into the weightless, dizzy sensation of submitting completely, being a plaything because he could trust Keith to bend him without breaking. In his euphoria, he hardly noticed one of his own hands had trailed down to his own arousal until Keith hissed, “No touching. You- don’t- deserve it.” The other could barely string six words together, though, so Lance guessed it wouldn’t be long until he would pay him back.

He guessed correctly. Seconds later, Keith pulled out suddenly, and Lance kept his mouth wide open, tongue lolling out obscenely, so he’d have somewhere to aim. Sticky white lines painted his face, and once they stopped, the first thing he did was grin.

“What-” Keith laughed when he looked down to see his lover smirking up at him, and let go of his hair to smear cum over his curved lips. “Quit that.” 

Lance echoed his laugh. “Sorry, not sorry. My turn now?” His voice was rough, but loud enough to understand, and Keith nodded, kneeling to join him on the floor.

“Yes. You’ve been so good.” Keith indulged him, pulling Lance into a forceful kiss with a hand on the back of his neck while the other jerked him off. He came in less than a minute, clutching his lover’s waist and bucking into his hand, and then it was Keith’s turn to smirk irritatingly. Making his boyfriend fall apart in just a few strokes, after a scene like this, had his ego thrumming.

Lance recovered a little slower than he had, tipping his head forward to rest it on his lover’s shoulder once he had nothing left. “So…” he began, already grinning toothily. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m a nosy little shit?”


	8. Day 12: Tentacles + Lotor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lotor sates his curiosity and fixes his quintessence shortage, all in one go... much to his Generals' horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep thinking one of these chapters is the nastiest thing I've ever written, and then I outdo myself. If tentacles aren't for you, skip this!  
> Also, yes, Lotor is a hermaphrodite with blue cum in my headcanon, because he's a mixed-species alien and nothing has to make sense. :D

“Are you sure about this?” Ezor knew the answer to her question before she asked it, but she couldn't keep quiet, either. The others were just as wary as she was of their Prince’s newest plan. 

“Yes.” Lotor replied without hesitation, but did not explain any further, which, coming from a man who never kept secrets from them, was heavily suspicious.

Acxa’s default frown deepened into a glower. “There are other ways to mine quintessence, you know.”

Lotor bristled, his temper so subtle that anyone who didn't know him as well as his generals did would even be able to tell he was angered. “Like what, drain it from innocent planets?” it was a rhetorical question, but he paused to let it hang in the air between them for a moment. They all knew who he was talking about. “This is the purest source of quintessence discovered since the rift on Daibazaal more than ten thousand years ago, and I intend to take it at any cost.”

“Even the cost of your ass?” Zethrid chimed in, swallowing a smile.

Ezor cackled at that, but Acxa was distinctly less amused. “Zethrid! This isn't a laughing matter!”

“No, it is.” Lotor took Zethrid's side, surprising all four of the others. The prideful Prince enjoyed being laughed at even less than most people, but in this case, he couldn’t blame them. “It is absurd to think that the only reason this went un-harvested was nothing but pride.” he paused, swallowed almost nervously. “And if the local stories are correct, the monster's effects on me will be… very entertaining, I'm sure.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, enough stalling. I'd already decided what I wanted when we landed.” he beckoned them to follow him, and their trek into the bowels of what the locals called a cursed planet began. 

The tunnel narrowed as they went, as if funneling its travelers through it, until they had to walk single file, knelt low. Zethrid had to crawl before the others did, but luckily, just before it got too small to let them pass, it opened up into a huge dome shaped cavern, lit by the glow of what seemed to be an entire lake’s worth of quintessence. Quintessence didn't follow any laws of liquid dynamics, though, so perhaps lake was the wrong word. It was more of a wall, cutting the half-sphere of the cavern into a wedge and taking up the rest of the space. At the center of the sphere, nestled cozily in front of the quintessence like a cat napping in sunshine, was the monster they'd heard so much about. 

Ezor reacted first, her voice even higher than usual. “Awww, I didn't expect it to be so cute! Wook at the tiny monstew.”

Naturally, Zethrid was more practical. “We could probably just step on it, take the quintessence, and leave.”

“Quiet.” Lotor hissed, scowling at the largest of his generals. “Although it does not speak, it  _ is  _ intelligent, and likely just heard you threaten it, which is why we cannot do that. It would react badly. Now, I'm going to go… introduce myself.” Already, he was taking off his armor, ignoring the anxious looks he was getting from all of- well, the three that had eyes. “You will stay here until I explicitly, specifically tell you otherwise. And this is unlikely, but just to rule out all possibilities, no, screaming does not count as an order. The only time you should intervene is if I am unconscious.” Finally, he peeled off the bodysuit worn under his armor, and walked towards the center fully naked, utterly shameless and unafraid.

If anything, he seemed excited. This was a unique challenge, one he wouldn't be able to surmount with his superior battle skills. He'd have to find another way to survive this monster. Even if he failed, though, he was sure his generals could defeat it, or at least injure it badly enough to pull him out and escape. A creature that fed off of quintessence to heal and strengthen itself wasn't easily defeated in a room with a seemingly endless supply of it.

At the moment, however, it seemed asleep. It was difficult to tell what parts of its body were where, because it wasn't shaped like any creature that made sense, but for now, it was a perfect circle, small enough to hold but large enough that it would require both hands, and when Lotor knelt to touch it, he learned that it was smooth, impossibly soft. Why, if it was essentially a sentient pillow, were the stories about it so intimidating? “Hello, there.” he greeted, feeling rather silly for addressing a little pink lump on the ground. “I apologize for my friend threatening to step on you, if you heard that. I would not let her do such a thing. I've heard you're very special, which is why I'm here to see you. Won't you come out and greet me, too?”

Shockingly, it responded. The circle shifted and changed, unfurling like a flower to reveal an anemone-like structure, countless tendrils raising, growing longer before his eyes to reach up and seek him out. This was fine, Lotor told himself. It didn't have eyes; surely, the tendrils were sensory. It was familiarizing itself with him. They were simply coiling around his hands, up his wrists, to figure out if he was armed. Surely, they were only tapping at his feet and toes, and tracing a path up his ankles to see if he had legs. “I don’t know if you have a name,” he kept his tone impressively calm, even as its tendrils rose higher and he lifted his hips out of his kneeling position to avoid them. “But mine is Lotor.” Introducing a monster to concepts of royal hierarchy seemed pointless, so he left off his title. “I heard you were very scary,” he chuckled lightly as one of the tendrils looped around his arm reached the top and began tickling his neck, then frowned when the creature seemed to vibrate and tense. “You don’t like that, being known as a monster?” It vibrated again, free tendrils curling and uncurling like fists. “I suppose most people wouldn’t like that, no.” He agreed, his tone almost tender, and reached out to take one of the tendrils in his hands. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure they were wrong. You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

By this point, the tendrils were a little bigger, some as thick as his wrist, and he blanched upon realizing it had two or three extended behind itself, absorbing quintessence to grow larger.  _ Note to self: let Narti examine you  _ **_thoroughly_ ** _ after this. Who knows what being this close to it will do to your body. _

The generals at the door, of course, were all thinking the same thing. Lotor was keeping calm intentionally, because with the monster wrapped around him, it would notice if he panicked, and because he was trying to avoid embarrassing himself in front of his team, but they had no reason to pretend. Narti’s companion was pacing circles around the entire group with its eyes down, only glancing up at Lotor every now and then, as if Narti couldn’t bear to look. Ezor watched without blinking, tilting her head sometimes to try and see exactly what the creature was doing. Acxa had her arms crossed, standing so perfectly still it couldn’t possibly be by accident. Zethrid didn’t bother to hide her anxiety, pacing back and forth at the door and fingering the gun at her side periodically.

They were anxious for good reason, even if Lotor wouldn’t admit it. The creature had reached the top of his arms and coiled one tentacle around his neck, another moving around his waist and squeezing snugly as if to test his density. “No, I don’t have an exoskeleton.” He attempted to answer its question, but it didn’t seem to believe him. As thin as he was, there wasn’t much give, so it squeezed harder, only satisfied when he breathed out to show that he could indeed be compressed. That was fine, perfectly explainable by his earlier theory that it was simply getting to know his shape, his biology.

The ones on his lower body, on the other hand, were a little more difficult to rationalize, because when they realized where his legs ended, they didn’t all go on to wrap around his waist. One slithered between his legs, curiously sliding past his balls and his vulva to trace the curve of his ass, and Lotor cleared his throat and turned his body a bit so that his teammates wouldn’t have a perfect view of whatever it was doing.

It was no secret that he had unusual genetics, because mixed-species like himself tended to end up either sterile or hermaphroditic, and thanks to being the son of a scientist with no boundaries, he knew he wasn’t sterile. Whether that was a blessing or a curse was yet to be seen, though, and knowing his team had similar issues didn’t mean he wanted his generals staring at the pussy lips nestled where his perineum should be.

He was right to be suspicious of its intentions, as it turned out, because another soon joined the first in the cleft of his ass, and they worked together to push a little more insistently, spreading his ass cheeks obscenely. “I do wish you could speak.” Lotor grumbled quietly, keeping his eyes on the creature and refusing to look back at his generals. “That way, you could just tell me your intentions. It seems the locals were wrong about your horrific brutality… and I find myself confused.”

The creature could feel his pulse quicken when its tendrils pushed at his ass, and raised one of the tentacles on his shoulder to pat his face, almost coming off as comforting. They were quite warm, Lotor noted, trying to focus on anything but what they were doing down below. At least it wasn’t a cold, slimy beast he had the task of distracting. It did seem to lack a certain sense of personal space, though, because after touching his face so gently, that same tendril slid upwards to cover his eyes, and then curled around to poke at his nose and lips. He took a deep breath, his calm demeanor slipping away from him once he was blind, but thankfully, before he had a chance to really decide whether there was a right way to order around a being of questionable intelligence, the limb moved away from his eyes. “Thank you.” he breathed, only to be shushed by the tendril pressing itself over his lips.

It was just exploring, he continued deluding himself. It found eyes, a nose, and now, it wanted to know what lips were. It had no mouth of its own, after all. It had no visible genitals, either, which was probably why the lower tendrils were curling around his, forming a figure eight around his balls and shaft. Then again, if its interests were purely scientific, why did it have to coil so tight around his shaft and move so sinuously, enveloping him in a warm, silky hold? He hated his own mind for supplying this comparison, but it felt more like than the inside of a throat than anything, and that mental image didn’t help him to stay calm. 

He couldn’t exactly protest, because the curious tentacle at his lips had grown more insistent, nudging between them until he begrudgingly gave in and opened up. Thankfully, it wasn’t cruel, tracing his lips, teeth, and tongue slowly, sensually, like a lover’s kiss. He’d never know what pure quintessence tasted like, because drinking it straight was a death sentence for anyone except his parents, but now, he imagined it would taste exactly like this. The tentacle was slippery, the liquid coating it sweet and unbearably sharp all at once, and the sharper side tingled, burned like capsaicin, but the sweetness made it easy to ignore that, to forget it, to forget what he was even here for. 

What  _ was  _ he here for?

Lotor shifted, attempting to pull his hips back a little so that he could push forward again, but the creature didn’t seem to want him to move at all. The tendril around his waist tightened again, coiling around a few more times to solidify its hold on him, and the ones wrapped around his legs gripped his thighs the same way. He flexed his arms, the last freedom he had left, and that only spurred the monster to coil around them tighter, protecting itself. 

He was trapped. He couldn’t even take a step back, he realized belatedly; his feet had left the ground. And yet, rather than wondering when he would be free-- or if he would be let go at all, for that matter,-- Lotor found himself wondering how long the creature holding him would play with him before he got what he wanted. At the moment, he wanted to move- not his limbs, that hardly mattered, but his hips. The warm, tight hold it had on his cock had the rather predictable effect of getting him worked up, but simply holding still wasn’t nearly enough. He couldn’t complain aloud about it, though- not because the tentacle in his mouth was preventing it, but for some other reason. What that reason was… that reason was foggy. But he had to stay quiet, nonetheless.

If he was in his right mind, he would remember that he wanted to stay quiet because his generals were only a few dozen steps away, close enough to hear him if he made any sound louder than a mumble. Already, they were several steps closer than they’d been before, having inched forward anxiously when their Prince was lifted like he weighed nothing. Ezor stopped the rest, though, whispering urgently, and the rest whispered back, quietly arguing.

She won that argument, though, and they decided to trust Lotor’s orders and stay put, so, the creature was allowed to continue its treatment of their leader. It could feel him tensing, wanting, clenching his fists in a vain attempt to regain control, but it refused to move for another minute. The tendril in his mouth pulled out first, and was quickly replaced with another, wetter one, dripping with so much of the rich liquid that coated the entire thing that he had to swallow a few times, just so that it wouldn’t ooze out from his lips messily.

Every tendril that wasn’t bearing his weight moved up to slide across his skin at that, petting him appreciatively, and the ones obscenely spreading him relaxed a bit. The sense of relief that followed was short-lived, though, because the two tendrils then turned their attention inward, one pressing against each of his holes. Dimly, he wondered if he had to worry about some kind of foreign pregnancy. Could the monster even reproduce?

He couldn’t bring himself to care about that, though. Mostly, he just wanted the monster to get on with it and stop playing with him, and he groaned to communicate his impatience, forgetting his resolution to stay quiet. Blessedly, the creature holding him seemed to understand well enough to take a hint, and he groaned again as it started to stroke him slowly, unfurling from his cock only to curl around it again. The tendrils behind moved more boldly than before, too, both pressing in at the same time. It found that one hole allowed the intrusion much more easily than the other, so it simply gave up on his ass for the time being, pushing deeper to fill his cunt until no more could fit- and then pushing in another inch.

Lotor screamed this time, struggling to buck under the tight restraint of the tentacles coiled around him. The tentacle inside him pulled out, traced a warm, wet swirl around his balls as if apologizing, and then did it all over again. And again, and again, until he could hardly breathe, and he thrashed his head to free his mouth and gasp.

“Lotor!” a voice hissed, and he turned to see a group of people he could’ve sworn he’d seen before, but they were much closer than last time, now halfway between his creature and the door. “Are you alright?” Surprisingly, it was the smallest, an indigo-skinned lady with her hair pinned up neatly, speaking for all the rest. “Do you need us?” 

Lotor chuckled breathlessly, mystified, and managed just one word before interrupting himself with another moan: “Whom?”

 

Behind Acxa, Ezor cursed under her breath. “He doesn’t remember us. I bet he doesn’t even remember his own name. The monster’s magic has him by the balls- literally, look how tight that little one is wrapped arou-”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Zethrid cut in, and pushed the other two apart to walk through them like a pair of doors. “I’m gonna kill it.” In unison, the smaller halflings grabbed her by the arms, gripping both hands around her biceps. 

“They said it feeds on quintessence, Zethrid.” Acxa reminded her. “What’s behind it?”

None of them liked it, but she was right. 

 

Meanwhile, Lotor was well distracted by the thick tendril fucking his now-dripping cunt and stroking his cock, and the creature could tell; his body no longer resisted when it pressed another tentacle against his asshole, so it slid past slowly, probing deeper than the other. Its victim’s cries escalated, the Prince’s voice reaching heights his generals hadn’t previously known that it could. He was no virgin, but he’d never been with anyone that could fuck both his holes this deep and suck his cock that well at the same time, and it was an experience he had no words for. 

His creature-- and yes, he had decided it was his,-- mirrored his motions even if it had no voice with which to echo him, shaking and vibrating against him as his excitement mounted. Sensing he needed a little more, it sped up, and the impossible intensity of sensation had Lotor cumming between them, shooting stripes of pale blue onto the pink creature’s center. It didn’t know the limits of a bipedal, though, be they Galran, Altean, or both, so it didn’t stop there, and he went silent when the pleasure coursing through him cycled into a potent mix of pleasure and pain.

He thought, surely, it would get tired soon, but another orgasm later, all it had done was shift him sideways as if laying him down, so that he no longer felt the need to hold himself up. Changing the angle didn’t help, though; it only meant abusing different places inside him, pleasure jolting through him every time the softly vibrating tips of its limbs dug into his sweet spots. “Please-” he begged, but even if it could speak a language he understood, he wouldn’t know what he was begging for. Did he want it to stop, when he was having the time of his life? 

After finishing the third time, the answer was yes, and he let out an ugly grunt when it continued, coming back to his senses enough to speak. “Stop, stop, I can’t take anymore-” considering the damn thing couldn’t understand him, he realized he’d just have to rely on the very concerned strangers nearby, and his head lolled back, long hair swinging under him as he turned to find them. They had some kind of apparatus connected to the glowing wall, and he squinted, not comprehending what was happening. He could feel his own energy sapping like steam dissipating, though, so once he made eye contact with one of them, he used the last of it on two words. “Help me.”

Everything went black, and then he woke up somewhere soft.

A soft thud caught his attention, something small landing on a hard floor, and he looked up in time to watch Narti’s cat sprint out of the room. “Narti,” he grinned, then his face fell when the events of the day before came back to him, and he shot up in his bed, looking around. Blessedly, all he found was the familiar walls of his sleeping quarters on their shared ship. “Gods. You pulled me out, then. Did you get the quintessence first?”

It was pointless to ask her these things, but she spared a smile for him as the others ran in. Naturally, Ezor was yelling, launching herself into his bed to wrap around him. “Lotor! You lived! I thought you got fucked to death!”

“Do me a favor, you three?” Lotor chuckled and looked up at the others who weren’t in his bed. “Kill her if she ever says that again.”

“Gladly.” Acxa and Zethrid answered in unison, but they were all smiling, glad their leader was relatively safe. 

“Now, back to business.” Lotor hugged Ezor and then gestured for her to get the hell out of his personal space; he loved his team, but he was not a cuddly person. It said a lot that she’d been allowed into his personal bubble and made it out unscathed. “Did you get the quintessence?”

“Yes, sir.” Acxa answered, and Zethrid grinned a shit-eating grin big enough for the both of them, since the other hardly ever smiled. “Six concentrated quintels of it.”

“Which, honestly, is totally worth your ass.” Zethrid asked, blunt as always, and Lotor rolled his eyes.

“One, my ass is priceless. And two, yes, it was worth it. It wasn’t actually that bad. That said,” he paused, fixing all of them with a very serious look. “That’s all I’ll say, because we’re not having that conversation, and we’re not telling anyone where we got this, either.”

“I can just see it now,” Ezor giggled, gesturing horizontally as if underlining her own imaginary subtitles. “Prince Lotor has been seen leaving a filthy tentacle-monster planet: entire universe questioning his kinks.”

“Actually, Zethrid, just kill her now.” Lotor teased, getting out of bed with a groan and a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinkshame me in the comments. Just do it.  
> No but seriously!! 100+ Kudos and nearly 3000 hits!??!? Unf, validation. If you're reading this, I love you. Thank you all. <3


	9. Day 13: Titfucking + Sheith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some college AU Sheith being their playful, nasty selves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it is the 17th and I'm posting Day 13, because even if I'm way behind, I could not bear to skip writing Shiro's glorious tiddies.

On second thought, Shiro mused from the padded floor of their garage-turned-gym, maybe making bets on his fighting abilities after working out with the Bros of Marmora the day before was a bad idea. Keith’s found family was great, and pretty much the best workout squad a couple of gym rats could hope for, but chill was not in their dictionary. The wringer they’d put him through left him as breathless and satisfied as having an orgy with them probably would have, but it also meant that, the next day, his muscles screamed at him every time he attempted to move. 

And yet, when Keith asked if he wanted to spar, he said yes.

When Keith’s trash talking evolved into a bet involving who got to be in charge when their fighting inevitably turned into sex as it so often did, he still said yes.

Before he knew it, he was on his back, having been unexpectedly  _ thrown  _ there by the smaller man, and all he could do was wheeze, his lungs topping the already-long list of body parts that were petitioning to just leave his body rather than be abused like this. He loved it, though, and loved the way Keith was panting, too, as the other moved to secure his position on top of Shiro.

Sitting on him was an imperfect way to pin someone down; the bigger man could likely throw him off anytime he wanted, and Keith knew it, but he did so anyway. Any excuse to have god’s gift to mankind between his thighs was a good one. “You’re really off your game today. That wasn’t even hard.” He taunted, intentionally understating the epic battle they’d just had.

“Yeah, I am.” Shiro admitted, shrugging his shoulders and then dropping his hands to push at Keith’s hips a little. “You’re crushing me, you know-”

Keith shifted to lift his hips and put more of his weight on his own knees, giving Shiro the space he needed to breathe, but he refused to move back an inch. “You’re hot like this, you know.” He pressed his lips together as if hiding a smile, but his widening eyes betrayed him; he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I mean,” he tilted his head, leaning down to lay both hands on his chest. “You’re hot all the time, but here on your back, in a shirt I’d probably have to cut apart to get it off of you?” he trailed off, letting his eyes speak for him in the way they dragged away from Shiro’s face, paused at his neck, then continued to his chest.

Shiro’s lips twitched, but he refused to smile. “I’d prefer you didn’t, I like this shirt.”

“Oh, shut up.” Keith’s grin contradicted his words, and he finally moved back, just far enough so that he could bend to kiss him. Shiro kissed back hungrily, like he’d been waiting for it, and Keith hummed against his lips, parting them for a brief taste of his lips before pulling away again. “So… what were the terms again?”

“You’re a bad liar,” Shiro grinned. “You didn’t forget.”

“You’re right.” Keith ceded with a shrug, shifting and rolling his hips to rub against him. “I get whatever I want, don’t I?” He paused, his hands squeezing and dragging across Shiro's chest, and then chuckled. “But… how is that any different from the usual? I always get what I want.” 

Shiro was thoroughly flustered, but he stubbornly held Keith’s eyes. “I seem to recall a few times-” he began, only to be interrupted by a harsh pinch to his nipples. He hissed and reached up to slap Keith’s hands away, and although he didn’t pinch him again, the willful man on top of him laid his hands right back on his chest afterwards. “Don’t  _ do  _ that.”

“Fine,” Keith smiled, and then yanked at the fabric of Shiro’s shirt, pulling it up and behind his head, but not off. Given how tight it was to begin with, his arms got trapped in an awkward position with his elbows above his head, but that was no accident. “Stay.” He ordered, and then surprised Shiro by hopping to his feet and disappearing through the door to the rest of the house. Thankfully, Keith wasn’t nearly patient enough to make either of them wait any longer than necessary, so he was back in seconds, a bottle of lube in hand.

Was he planning on riding him right there on the floor? Just the thought of it made his already partial boner a more prominent bulge against his pants, but rather than removing them, Keith returned to straddling his chest. “What-” Shiro began, but when the other removed his own pants, he started to understand. “Are you serious?”

“What do you think.” Keith replied without hesitation, liberally dripping the lube down the center line of Shiro’s chest and over his own cock. “Now, push ‘em together.” He ordered, and after detangling himself from his t-shirt, the older did just that. He could be very obedient under the right circumstances, Keith noted.

Shiro watched as his lover moved closer, slotting his shaft between the glorious pecs on either side, and laid a hand on top to complete the ‘surrounded’ feeling. Keith’s hands were still gloved, he noted, which on some level was gross, because the fabric would be covered in lube and cum in a little while, but they could always be washed. Shiro knew from experience that he actually preferred the leather against his skin, and upon remembering that he’d bought Keith those gloves, spent an awful lot of time contemplating why.

It was an obvious answer; Keith associated them with him, and anything involving Shiro was his biggest turn-on. He wanted every inch of the larger man to be his, which was part of the reason this was so gratifying. He was literally using one of the more impressive features of his body to get off, and watching his own cock slide between those thick pecs, alongside the fact that Shiro’s arms had to flex to push them closer, had him on the edge in minutes. It didn’t help that he got to control the rhythm when he was in charge, and while Shiro liked to keep him waiting, Keith had no such patience.

The other talking to him the entire time didn’t help, either. “You like that, huh? Does it feel as good as it looks in porn? Don’t lie, I know that’s where you got this idea. You’re such a perfect little deviant. Keith, look at me. Oh, god.” He had to pause here just to process the complicated string of emotions flashing through his lover’s intense eyes, from shame to desire to frustration to something heady that might even be love. “Your eyes are gorgeous.”

“Shut up,” Keith ground out, hurriedly covering his boyfriend’s mouth with his free hand. 

Unfortunately for him-- or perhaps fortunately,-- Shiro knew he was only being shushed because his voice was adding too much fuel to the fire, so he opened his mouth instead of obeying, and took two of Keith’s fingers into it. His eyes closed for a few seconds as he sucked on them, and when they opened, the look he gave Keith shattered him like a wine glass against a granite floor.

“ _ Fuck, Shiro _ -” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as the first wave hit, and then forced them open to watch as his release left streaks across his lover’s face, dripping down his sculpted chin. 

Keith’s gasps were the only sound in the room for a moment, until Shiro spoke. “Damn,” he paused, drawing out the vowel a tad longer than necessary. “If I’d known I could make you cum like that by letting you, you know,” whatever he just did, “we would’ve done it way sooner.”

Keith grinned. “You’re the worst at talking dirty, you know. Would rather say ‘you have beautiful eyes’ than the phrase ‘titty fucking’.” Shiro sputtered, but he cut him off. “Don’t argue with me till you can say it without blushing.”

Shiro pouted for a few seconds, like he was thinking about how to do that, and then quickly decided it didn’t matter. “Whatever. Come down here and kiss me, or kiss me down there, either will do.” He shifted impatiently, and Keith obliged, melting on top of him like butter. He didn’t move down to spoil his boyfriend just yet, though; first, he had to taste himself on Shiro’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter seems a bit rushed! Also sorry not sorry for my obsession with bottom Shiro lmao, I swore I'd let him top in later chapters and then... prompts like this got in the way.   
> As always, comments are welcome, encouraged, appreciated, and loved! <3


	10. Day 14, 15, & 16: Lancelot + Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14. Sensory Deprivation / Role Reversal, Day 15. Object Insertion, and Day 16. Masks all seemed to go together, somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined 3 days in an effort to catch up, and I'm still late. Damn.  
> I could probably write an entire 50K fic about this AU, but I have no time, so it's getting tossed into Kinktober. I took Role Reversal very literally, and thought what if, in the canon alternate reality where Sven exists, Lotor and Lance are switched? Altean Lance is the son of the enemy Empire, with complicated feelings about his own race, and Lotor is a smartass pilot, helping to take down that Empire. When Lance defects from the Empire, they meet, and... Lotor gets what he wants. ;)

His whole life, Lance thought he understood peace. He was told that, because no one was fighting, the entire universe was at peace. His race, the most sophisticated, beautiful, powerful race in existence, had created the longest stretch of universal peace in known history; ten thousand years of Altean rule, to be exact.

The only issue with that was that they’d never fully explained how. As a Prince, he needed to be educated in tactics, leadership, and diplomacy, not the intricacies of hoktril technology. It didn’t matter what hoktrils did to insurgents, only that they worked, and spread peace and order throughout the universe.

The day Lance found out that peace was not synonymous with a lack of resistance was, for a long time, considered the worst day of his life. For eighteen years, he’d worshipped the empire he grew up in. For years before that, he’d been training to rule it, and yet, it took eighteen for him to actually get close enough to a revolution that he witnessed a hoktril being installed. The alien in question was screaming, thrashing- ‘You’ll never get away with this!’- and then, once the silvery-white apparatus was drilled into the back of their skull, went perfectly still. “Good,” the medic had cooed, like the subdued adult in their arms was a child who was about to get a lollipop for being very good while getting a harmless immunization. “Now, tilt your head forward so I can clean it.” Slowly, the rebel obeyed, the motion smooth and mindless.

They shouldn’t have to hold the subject down against their will for a process that supposedly enlightened and aided a species, or clean the blood off of them afterwards. Lance couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it sooner.

Currently, he considered that day a harsh step towards the best days of his life.

The next step was much better.

 

~~~

 

Lance was facedown on the cold, hard floor of the main control room of the Castle of Wolves, both arms bent painfully behind his back and a knee jammed harshly between his shoulder blades, while the leaders debated his intentions.

“Did anyone ask him?” a voice, pleasantly thick like the feel of leather, cut through the rest, and several uncomfortable glances were exchanged. Lance couldn’t breathe well enough to speak, but he sent the owner of the voice a grateful look, noting that, if chocolate ice cream were personified, it would look exactly like this thickset angel of a man.

“I don’t see why he would tell us the truth.” Another, a tall being in dark blue armor, crossed his arms, pretty eyes narrowing suspiciously. He was difficult to place, because his purple complexion would suggest being Galra, but the long, silvery-white hair that fell over his shoulders beautifully looked distinctly Altean.

“Simple. Because I’ll kill him if he doesn’t.” The one currently pinning Lance to the ground, another pretty halfling-- certainly half Altean, based on the marks on his cheeks, but Lance couldn’t tell what his other half was,-- spoke up, and pulled a knife from his belt to hold it to his neck.

“Alright.” The leader, a human with shaggy black hair, thick eyebrows, and an unfamiliar accent, apparently approved of this insane reasoning, and the captive began to sweat. “But not until I decide he’s lying.”

Well, at least his fate wasn’t up to the hotheaded Akira. Still, as he began his tale, Lance was more nervous than he’d ever been in his life, which, as usual, led to saying far too much. By the time he was done, the leaders of the Guns of Gamora knew more about him than his best friend back on Altea did.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret his word vomit, though, because in this instance, it saved his life. They realized he truly wanted to help with the effort to take down the Altean empire, and their deadliest fighter, the half-Galra who’d doubted him earlier, was put in charge of him. When he saw the room, however, Lance was convinced it was all a joke, and they were about to torture him for information. There was a bed on one wall, yes, but the table on the other side had straps attached, and he didn’t even need a good look at the shelves to know they had strange weapons and materials on them.

Lotor stepped into the room behind him, and locked it. “Do calm down, my dear. The things in this room are for my own personal amusement, not for interrogation. If we wanted to interrogate you, we would’ve let Katie do it- that would be the small one, in green.” He explained, leading the shaken Altean to the center of the room with a gentle hand on his lower back.

“So what am I here for?” Lance demanded. “You can’t just keep me as a pet- I’m absolutely invaluable to the rebellion, you know. I know everything about the Empire. It was my job to know everything about the Empire.”

Lotor laughed, a delicious sound that hit the ears like cooling raindrops on overheated summer skin. “I know you are, Prince Lance.” He emphasized the title, drawing out the vowel, and yet, it sounded less respectful than ever. “But we are not here to talk about the war effort. It’s the middle of the night, as I’m sure you noticed, and this is a small base. This is a bedroom. One we’ll be sharing. We’re roomies, now.” He seemed on the brink of laughing.

Lance swallowed, tan cheeks turning rosy. “Oh, okay. So, what, I’ll be taking the bondage bed to make sure I don’t escape, and you’ll be taking the comfy one?”

Lotor hummed. “Well, one, the bondage bed is not as uncomfortable as you think it is, and two, you’re welcome to simply share that one with me.” He pointed at each bed in turn, paused, and brought a slender hand to his chin thoughtfully. “I was about to ask how you know what that’s called… but I suppose the Galra aren’t the only ones with such things. How experienced are you?”

Lance protested at first, used to Altean propriety, but as he chatted with the eccentric pilot, they grew more comfortable with each other, and he remembered that, before there was a knife to his neck, the first thing he’d noticed was how lovely the unique man beside Sven was. Lotor was charming, too, there was no denying that, and the more they chatted, the more curious he became. Eventually, his big mouth got the best of him. “Why don’t you just show me?” He hadn’t meant to ask such a thing, but now that it was out there, he figured there would be no taking it back. Feigning bravery, he went over to the black table and started tossing the pieces over his shoulder. “Won’t need that, or that. Neither of them will hold me. You’ve heard Alteans are stronger than we look, haven’t you?” 

Lotor caught his right wrist as he moved to throw something, then his left, and laid both hands back on the table, suddenly right behind him. “You might be impressed.” He smirked, and moved to start removing Lance’s armor, but not the clothes beneath, yet. “May I?”

“If we’re going to be allies, we will need to trust each other, right?” Lance mused. “I, personally, have always been told not to trust anyone as beautiful as you are… but it’s so much harder to listen to in practice.”

“Is that a yes, or no?”

“Yes.” So, his clothes were shucked off, and strangely, Lance felt less like an alien in an unfamiliar place than he had before, in his fancy white and gold Altean uniform. “Do you treat all new recruits like this?” He teased, a playful tone sneaking into his voice.

“Only the very beautiful and important ones, ones we need to stay on our side.” Lotor answered, and it puzzled Lance a little.

He didn’t get a chance to ask what that meant before Lotor’s teeth were at the base of his neck, though, and gods he hoped the walls in this rebel bunker were thicker than they seemed, because the resulting moan was about as subtle as the markings on Lance’s cheeks. “Gods, warn me before you-” he hissed once the initial shock of it wore off, but Lotor pointedly did not warn him before doing it a second time. The Altean didn’t vocalize his pleasure quite as loudly as before, but he still sang in a decidedly positive way, and pushed his hips back towards his new ally.

“No, no.” Lotor chided, holding the other still. “It will be a long time before you earn that. Although I have your trust, you will need to work for mine.” He explained, and then knelt to pick up one of the leather pieces Lance had carelessly tossed. “If you wish so badly to know me, to be shown- you will get your wish.” Without further explanation, he slipped the garment over Lance’s head, and plunged him into darkness. It wasn’t oppressive, since the strap around the back of his head only a few fingers wide, but the front was bigger than it needed to be, butterfly-shaped so as to let absolutely no light reach the wearer’s eyes. The prince whimpered, and Lotor did nothing but hold his hands in place until he was quiet again. “Continue?” He probed, double checking that the other was willing.

Lance refused to be intimidated by something as innocuous as the dark. He could tear this mask off anytime he wanted. So, after the initial panic, he nodded, smiling winningly. “Of course. Only children fear the dark.” 

“Is it the dark you need to fear?” Lotor teased, and for the first time, it sounded like he was smiling back. Lance wasn’t certain it was a smile he wanted to see, though. “Keep your hands where they are, or you’re staying in Akira’s room instead. He sleeps with a knife… and he sleepwalks.”

Nope, it was definitely Akira he needed to fear. Regardless, he couldn’t focus on fear very long when a certain warmth was crawling up his spine along with Lotor’s fingers, pausing at his neck and continuing across his shoulders. Soon, and yet, not soon enough, they made their way down his sides and traced a finger along Lance’s length, pulling a needy whine from the Altean. “I’m- I’m gonna be honest with you here, this isn’t how I expected this alliance to work,” he stammered, “but if it is, then what do I have to do to get more?”

Lotor cackled. “As Sven would say… Patience yields focus. You need only to wait. If you cannot control yourself well enough to stay quiet, you’ll never be able to keep our secrets, will you? You certainly couldn’t keep your own.” He taunted, lazily encircling the prince’s dick with a thumb and two fingers. “What was it you said-? You’d have sold your whole empire out sooner if you knew the Guns of Gamora were this attractive?”

Lance flushed red again. “Well, I mean, I’m not gonna deny that,” he avoided the question. “But you are im-immensely attractive.” Suddenly, Lotor’s hands left him, and Lance huffed, lower body moving about in search of contact. “Hey- what is this? A test in patience? I can be patient. I- I’d like to know where you went, though. If this is just to humiliate me, I’ll-”

“I do hope you weren’t about to threaten me, Lance, because I’m about to be very kind to you.” Lotor interrupted, and nudged the inside of Lance’s ankles. “Spread your legs.” 

After a deep breath, the Prince obeyed. “You’re familiar with A-” he began, only to forget the rest of his question.

“I am half Altean, Lance. Do not condescend.” Lotor rolled his eyes as he rubbed his slick digits against his hole. Once satisfied with the friction, or lack thereof, he went and pushed one in, then seemed to change his mind and added another immediately. “Not new to this, I see.” He observed, and Lance gave no answer except to hang his head and push back on his fingers. “Even better. So, I don’t suppose you’d be opposed,” he spoke slowly, scissoring and wiggling his fingers to further stretch him. “To me putting something bigger in, would you?” Rather than let him answer immediately, he added a third and pushed deep, and Lance’s mind went blank except for one word.

“Yes,” he groaned, and Lotor’s fingers disappeared.

“You  _ would  _ be opposed?” 

“Wh- no!” Lance rocked as if to get the lost contact back. “No I would not be opposed, I want it. Do I need to be this specific?”

“Even more, in fact. Tell me what ‘it’ is.” Lotor gripped his hips so the other couldn’t even rub himself against the table.

Lance took a deep breath, and another, struggling to manage his frustration without being disrespectful. He knew it would only earn him more suffering if he gave in to the temptation to be petty. “I want your dick, inside of me, now.” He finally opened his mouth, chose the correct tool to do it with, and pulled those teeth… only to be denied.

“No,” Lotor hummed, like he had all the time in the world. “I said you had to earn my trust. If you need more, though, there are plenty of ways.” He purred, and picked something up from nearby. Lance couldn’t see what it was, and instead of soothing his confusion, the other proceeded to worsen it. A set of thick noise-canceling mufflers, made for keeping delicate, pointed Altean ears warm and undamaged in wintry, howling weather, were placed around his head, blocking out another of his senses. 

If the other continued talking after that, Lance couldn’t tell. He was in another world, one where only sensation mattered. Smell would have an effect if they were closer together, but as it were, the room didn’t smell like much, besides subtle traces of whatever Lotor was, something clean, a dash of salt, and his own arousal. Aside from that, his entire world was just one point of contact: Lotor’s hand, tracing its way down his body to wrap around his cock again and stroke ever so slowly. Lance shuddered and bucked into his hand, but every time he moved,the hand opened, eliminating the satisfying pressure around him. Eventually, he learned to just stay still, and let the other pump and tease him as he wished.

Once the poor Prince was whimpering and dripping slippery precum along his length, Lotor let go of him entirely, leaving him alone for several seconds. He’d done this several times now, so Lance was pretty sure it was all a game, but without being able to watch or listen for clues, he could only guess at where the other was, what he was doing, and how long it would be until he returned. Having no idea what was going on made the mere half a minute feel like half a century. In perfect silence and darkness, the weight of the situation had time to settle upon him like a snowbank, and the realization that he had no control here was one he wasn’t sure he liked. Sure, he’d been in similar situations before. Letting someone else call the shots was fine, preferred, even, especially when a Prince was always expected to know what to do, but he had never given so much to a stranger. Frankly, he began to wonder if joining the rebellion was worth it, if his dignity was the price he had to pay to earn their trust.

Lotor answered that question for him when he returned with a large, lubed-up toy. At least, he was fairly sure it was a toy. It was too hard to be organic, and when he reached the bottom, he could feel the other’s warm fingers on the outside. “Oh, gods,” he moaned, but could hardly even hear his own voice. When Lotor pulled it halfway out, and pushed in again, he couldn’t be sure whether the sound he made was a scream or a whimper, but it didn’t matter- all he wanted to know was that the other would do it again.

Lotor did repeat the motion, continuing rhythmically, relatively slow, and it was just what Lance needed. The thing pumping in and out of him wasn’t perfectly smooth, but ridged, and wider on the end, so going any faster would have been far more painful than pleasurable. After a minute of deep, even thrusts, though, he grew used to it, and started pushing back. “More, I can handle more.” He urged, and Lotor obliged, pushing faster, angling it up, then down, so that the Altean never quite knew what was next. Before long, his unpredictable thrusts struck gold, in the form of a sensitive bundle of nerves nestled against his inner wall, and Lance jerked, bucking unintentionally. “There! Right th-  _ yes _ ! Oh, gods!” he cried, and again, Lotor listened, moving the toy so that it would brush his accidental sweet spot again. He could feel his body buzzing, each push fanning the flames inside him until they reached a dangerous temperature, and- 

Lotor stopped.

“Lotor!” He whined, “Please don’t stop, I need it,  _ please _ ,” It was rare that a Prince would ever resort to begging, which only made it doubly frustrating when the other ignored his cries. Rather than resume the pace from before, he pushed closer, holding the toy against his sweet spot and pressing his still-clothed chest to Lance’s back. He could feel the half-Galran humming against him, his warm breath ghosting over his neck, but he couldn’t hear a thing he said.

Lotor apparently intended it that way, because once he was done, he chuckled and put both hands on his hips to turn him around. Lance let himself be repositioned, reaching for the other’s waist to pull him closer, but his hands were grabbed before he found it, and quickly returned to the table behind him with a firm pressure that said,  _ Stay _ . He whined, but it quickly turned into a high-pitched moan when Lotor pushed him back a little further. Just as planned, the toy inside him hit the table edge, driving it deeper, and after he got that message, the other’s hands left his hips to wrap around his cock. He didn’t even move, letting Lance set the pace, so the prince bucked with abandon, fucking into Lotor’s warm grip and fucking himself on the toy at the same time. “Kiss me,” he breathed.

The hybrid did exactly that, and, anticipating why Lance asked for it, angled his cock upwards so that when he came seconds later, he only made a mess of himself. “Well, you’re quite a sight,” Lotor grinned as he took the earmuffs off, the blindfold following soon after. “If only all Alteans were as easy as you are.”

“Easy?” Lance could hardly breathe, could hardly think, could hardly process the new information his brain was sending him as he recovered his senses, but something told him Lotor wasn’t complimenting him.

“Yes, easy. I met you hours ago, and you let me do everything I wanted with you.” 

Lance frowned. “You really know how to ruin an afterglow, y’know that?” Regaining his wits slowly, he reached behind him to take the toy out of his ass and, after being mildly horrified that it was enormous and purple, fashioned to look like a Galra dick, dropped it and sat on the table. His shaking legs wouldn’t support him, anyway. “I did this because you said I need to prove I trust you guys, so you don’t get to call me a whore about it.”

“Oh, it had nothing to do with trust.” Lotor shrugged, moving away from the Prince to recover a cloth and wetting it so that the other could clean up a bit with it. “I already knew you trusted us- you flew into our headquarters unarmed.”

Lance sputtered, “But- the wh- if I- what was that, then!?”

“We did this because of a little thing called _ I wanted to. _ ”

 

~~~

 

He hadn’t been quite so amused at the time, but when Lance looked back on the first night with the man he now called his, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fairly unedited, so if you see typos or things that make no sense, let me know! Less constructive comments are always appreciated, too. They make my day. <3


	11. Day 18. Klunk + Daddy Kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Oprah voice* You're a switch! You're a switch! You're a switch! EVERYBODY'S A SWITCH  
> AKA, the trope-subverting fic nobody asked for, because I have this headcanon that Lance would love being called daddy just as much as he'd like applying it to someone else, and because I have no self-control. :D  
> Occurs in an AU where they're all living together, and how Hunk didn't know these two were kinky fucks until now, I just do not know. Call it willful ignorance.

When Hunk got home, he closed the door behind him politely. Although he’d claim that it was just because slamming doors is rude, he had an ulterior motive; he loved catching his boyfriends doing whatever they would be doing if they were home alone. He kept a running mental list of the funniest things he’d caught them doing. His favorites included standing around in the bathroom with a ruler trying to determine exactly whose dick was bigger (Lance won by a half inch), watching Naruto while in full cosplay (and yet, they still claimed it was accidental), and Keith dead asleep on the couch while Lance stacked various food items on his face (he made it to eleven cookies, three toaster waffles, and two bananas before Keith woke up). 

He loved them.

Those were rare examples, though, because most days, they were simply arguing, fucking, or both. That day, they were arguing, and as usual, Lance’s voice was louder. “Okay but like, it’s objective fact that Robb is daddy.”

“Uh, no it’s not. I don’t think you know what objective means.”

“Fine, whatever you say, Mr. Lannister. At least I’m not about to slurp up sloppy seconds from Satan herself.” he jabbed, and Keith crossed his arms.

“Say whatever you want, but that is one  _ fine _ sister-fucker. The only character more daddy than Jaime is Jon Snow.”

Lance shook his head, holding a hand up. “Nope, no way, too far. Jon Snow is pretty, and I’d tap that faster than you can say ‘You know nothing’,” He adopted a fake British accent for the infamous phrase before continuing in his own voice, “but he’s no daddy. He’s an infant. Daddy Robb, on the other hand-”

“Look at that face!” Keith interrupted, gesturing at the TV, which was conveniently playing a scene with Jon Snow in it. “Look at his cool-ass wolf sword. He’s way more daddy than Robb. Robb wouldn’t have survived the Night’s Watch.” 

Lance looked at the screen for a second as if deciding, but after the short pause, he apparently came to the conclusion that Keith was still wrong. “He totally would have. I’m offended that you’d even say that about my husband.”

Finally, Hunk made his presence known, chipping in and leaning on the couch. “I thought your husband was Daario.”

“Nah, Daario’s like, on a whole ‘nother level of daddy. It’s differ-” he began, his tone flippant, and then sat up straight and twisted to grin at Hunk, half thrilled to see him and half nervous. “Hunk! Baby! How long have you been standing there??”

“Long enough.” He grinned back, and leaned over to kiss Keith’s face, then Lance’s, greeting them as usual as if he hadn’t just overheard the most embarrassing discussion they’d had in months. “I had no idea daddy was an adjective.” He teased, coming around the couch to sit between them.

“I mean,” Keith shrugged, “Lance makes up words everyday. Why not misuse the ones that already exist?” Still, his face was burning, and Hunk could tell he was a second or two from bolting to avoid this conversation, so he prevented it by winding a heavy arm around both of them and snuggling them close.

“Hey, you can’t blame this on me, you started this argument when Jon Snow got naked-” Lance likely would’ve gotten hurt at this point, if Keith hadn’t been stopped from lunging at him. Hunk wanted to know what he had to say. “And you were like,  _ Daaamn, daddy. _ ” 

“Did you really?” Hunk stared at Keith, fascinated, and the poor boy’s blush worsened from bubblegum-pink to strawberry red. 

“It’s- it’s a figure of speech,” he defended, lying badly as always. “People say it all the time.”

Lance snickered. “Yeah, people with daddy kinks.”

“You-” Hunk had to hold Keith still again, and he was glad as always that he’d chosen to sit in between them, or this would be much harder. “You don’t get to shame me for this! You just said Daario was daddy!”

“Guys, you’ve said daddy so many times, the word is starting to lose meaning.” Hunk pointed out. They went quiet, Lance nodding in agreement and Keith pointedly looking the other direction. “This conversation can be over, if you really don’t wanna talk about it-” he paused, gauging their reactions, and noting the skeptical way Lance raised an eyebrow. He knew the sentence wasn’t over. “Or... we could continue, 'cause I have questions.” 

“Over. It should be over.” Keith answered too quickly, and for once, the other two let him be. They knew his fuse was shorter than the average tic-tac, and being shamed was even more likely to set him off than most things.

This conversation wasn’t over, though.

Later, Lance inevitably got bored of Game of Thrones and started distracting Hunk from it as well, his hands digging their way under his clothes like a stiff breeze. Keith turned and gave him a conflicted look. He preferred to do one thing at a time, and they were still in the middle of an episode, but then again, binge watching TV was much less tempting than joining them. Hunk wasn’t exactly complaining, either, already reaching over to pull Lance’s tee over his head. Keith dug the remote out from the pile of pillows on the other side of the couch, flipped the TV off, and leaned over to demand Hunk’s attention just like a cat: by biting him.

“ _ Keith- _ ” Hunk tried to admonish him for it, but couldn’t bring himself to sound properly disapproving when his voice was laced with desire, so he simply pulled the other into a bruising kiss instead. Lance didn’t mind, simply sliding into Hunk's lap to watch them and pushing his hands further up Hunk’s shirt to tweak his nipples.

Hunk whimpered against his lips, and Keith loved it, moving to lay one hand in the bigger man’s hair, and the other on Lance’s back. God, he was so lucky- having a hand on both his boyfriends always had him feeling singularly blessed, reminded that they were here, they were real, and they were both his.

Lance’s mind was running along a similar line of thought, and he curled a hand around Keith’s neck while the other remained on Hunk's chest, gently pushing until the other two broke apart. Keith looked mildly annoyed and confused, but they were only splashes of negativity in a boiling vat of arousal. Lance knew better; nothing got him going faster than the threat of violence. “We should take this to the bedroom,” he suggested, as if his eyes hadn’t already said as much, and Keith agreed emphatically, hopping off the couch and taking Lance’s hand to pull him with.

“Why is this the only thing you two ever agree on?” Hunk teased, but he was eager too, and gladly scooped them both up in his arms to carry them to the bedroom. 

“Oh, my god, I always forget how strong you are,” Lance marveled, unabashedly in awe of his lovely show-off of a boyfriend. “I love it. I want those strong arms to hold me down while you fuck my brains out.”

“Bossy, bossy.” Hunk answered vaguely, dropping them both on the bed like an armful of groceries. “That’d be leaving Keith out, wouldn’t it?” He climbed on top of the man in question, and Keith grinned, already leaning up to nip at his neck. He'd never admit it, but he loved attention as much as Lance did; he simply wasn't willing to do as much whoring for it.

“I could suck him off. You know I’m good at multitasking.” Lance protested, but Hunk wasn’t having it, nudging Keith’s legs apart to settle between them.

“Not tonight, Lance.” He gently refused, and reached over to pull him into a heated kiss, tilting his head to give Keith more access to his chest while he kissed Lance like he was stealing his soul.

“Okay,” Lance hummed when they finally broke apart, dazed from the surprising intensity with which Hunk kissed him. Some nights, he swore he’d come untouched from the way Hunk could take him down a notch with only his lips. “So…?” Still, he had to ask, because threesomes weren’t quite as smooth and simple as they seemed. They’d have to decide who was in the middle, or if they were taking turns, then who would be watching and who would be going first.

“Why don’t you get behind me and take these clothes off? Gettin’ kinda hot in here.” Hunk smiled invitingly, and Lance’s eyes widened with realization before his lips caught up and returned that warm smile of his. 

“Yes, please.” He moved as Hunk indicated, wrapping his arms around the other’s thick waist to undo his pants. “Don’t mind if I do.”

“Don’t bother taking your time, daddy.” Hunk tested the waters, and the other two froze in sync, Keith raising an eyebrow and Lance taking a deep breath as if grounding himself. Suddenly, every insecurity that haunted him their first few times together was back, and Hunk laughed nervously. “What? Was that weird? I thought you guys were into it, so I figured I’d, you know, play along.”

“No, no, it just… that’s, um, new.” Keith stated, and looked over Hunk’s shoulder at Lance. Anytime he was quiet was reason for suspicion. The way his lips were pressed together, his eyes avoiding Keith’s… he quickly figured out what was going on, and grinned up at him. “How you doin’ back there, daddy? Cum in your pants yet?” He taunted, and the other seemed to wake back up.

“Hunk, slap him for me.” He scowled, and when the gentle giant between them hesitated, he gently pushed down on his back. “Or at  _ least  _ shut him up.” 

Swallowing a snicker, Hunk obliged. That he could do. Bracing one huge hand on Keith’s chest, he bent to kiss him and rolled his hips, grinding against him. If the goal was to quiet him, he wasn’t doing a very good job, because Keith groaned in response, dropping his hands to his own hips to yank his clothes off without breaking their kiss.

Lance was doing the same, shucking his own shorts to relieve some of the pressure; as much as he wished he could deny it, Keith was almost right. Hunk had taken him by surprise, indulging a kink he never thought would happen in real life, and offered him the reins in the process, a double whammy of pleasant surprises-- and it wasn’t even his birthday. He resolved to make it worthwhile, and moved to pull Hunk’s pants off as soon as his own were out of the way. Biting his lip, he contemplated giving in to the temptation presented by his boyfriend’s exposed ass… and did what he wanted before his sense (as if he had any) could convince him out of it.

Lance spanked his wide ass hard, and Hunk broke away from Keith to yelp, whining Lance’s name. He only did it again. “Nope, not Lance.” He shook his head, and ignored the way Keith rolled his eyes. He’d get his later. 

Hunk pouted quietly and glared over his shoulder; he should have known Lance would abuse his power if he had any.  _ Note to self: pay him back for this. _

The man only spanked him again to punish his silence, and Hunk whimpered, breaking easier than an eggshell. “Please, don’t hit me again, daddy- I’ll- I’ll be good?” He closed his eyes as he spoke, unwilling to see whether Keith was judging him for this, but when he cracked one open, all he saw was a red face full of slightly-horrified realization.

“Y’know when you see something you didn’t think would turn you on but then it does?” Keith muttered, and Hunk responded by wrapping a hand around his throat.

“You’re on the bottom of the food chain here, baby. Nothing would make  _ daddy  _ happier than hurting you. Don’t say a word ‘til I ask you to.” He whispered, and Keith couldn’t hide the shudder that washed through him at that, nor could he resist digging when he was already down.

“What if I want you to hurt me?”

Hunk’s hand tightened around his neck, and Lance moved off to the side to snatch the half-empty bottle of lube from the bedside table. “Give me your other hand, babycake.” He asked Hunk, and the man obeyed without a second thought, enjoying the silly pet name more than he thought he would. It was true that he was soft and sweet, after all, and Lance could never get enough of him. “Do what you want with that,” Lance instructed, dripping a generous amount of lube onto Hunk’s fingers, and then turned his attention to the curve of Hunk’s ass, dousing it with lube just to watch it dribble down the center, past his hole and towards his balls.

“Ah- cold!” Hunk protested, but Lance only cackled and traced his fingers up the path the slippery liquid had just taken, pushing one into him. “Jerk,” he grumbled, and then gasped when the single digit inside of him turned into two.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, daddy.” Hunk mumbled, finally releasing Keith’s neck so that he could distract himself by watching the poor thing under him gasp and writhe. “You okay?” He checked, and when Keith nodded, he lowered the hand Lance had doused with lube between them. “I’m gonna do you while Lance does me- how’s that sound?” 

Keith moaned. “Why aren’t we doing it yet?”

Hunk chuckled and took both his hands with the one that had been around his neck, bringing them up above his head. “Daddy wants us to wait.” He answered easily, relishing in the freedom that came with taking no responsibility.

“That’s right, baby.” Lance purred, rewarding him by pushing a little deeper and curling his fingers, his free hand dipping underneath to cup his balls and squeeze gently. Hunk moaned shakily, back arching, and Lance looked up at the ceiling as if in silent prayer.  _ Give me strength, or if not, patience. _ He’d need it if he expected to last more than a few minutes. 

“Focus,” Keith’s voice cut into his reverie, the cranky man bucking under Hunk. “Fuck me or let me go.” He hissed, impatient, and Hunk grinned before obliging, adding another finger to stretch him further. 

Once his fingers couldn’t go any deeper, though, Hunk stopped, a horrible grin on his face. “Ask daddy nicely.”

Keith wasn’t having it. He growled, bucking harder, to no avail. “ _ Daddy’s  _ not the one three fingers deep in my ass right now! Why should I?” He fought it, and Hunk dipped his head down to bite the base of his neck hard before answering.

“I didn’t mean Lance, honey.” He explained, and bit him again a couple inches away, moaning against his skin as Lance continued to work him over. “I know you want to.” He dared, once he let go, and Keith huffed, face redder than ever.

“Just- just fuck me,” he stammered, and then added, much quieter, “daddy.”

Hunk smirked, removing his fingers, then hesitated, glancing behind his own shoulder at Lance.

“Go ahead, Hunk.” Lance grinned, flattered that he saw the need to ask for permission. “Hold him down and push in slow. You know just how he likes it.” He directed, and watched the other push Keith’s thighs apart and line himself up, rocking slowly against him. He knew exactly what it was like being in Keith’s place; he’d been there countless times. Hunk would push against him, rubbing softly at first before prodding a little harder, until the tight circle of muscle gave in and let him in. 

Lance couldn’t see it, but he knew exactly when it happened nonetheless. Hunk and Keith cried out in sync, the bigger man’s spine curling and his hands moving down to clamp the smaller’s hips in place as he slid deeper. Unexpectedly, Lance moaned right along with them, voyeuristic satisfaction buzzing up his spine like he had a vibrator pressed against his insides. “Good,” he purred, and braced a hand on the small of Hunk’s back. “Stay right there. If you move, I’ll spank you till you cry.” It was an empty threat, and they all knew it- the only time Lance made his boyfriends cry, it was with laughter- but neither of the others chose to call him on it, playing along. More importantly, the better they listened, the sooner they’d get what they wanted, so Hunk obeyed.

He hadn’t said anything about being quiet, though, so Hunk turned to watch and goad him on as Lance lined himself up. “Please don’t keep me waiting, daddy- I want it really bad. You’re always-” He didn’t get much farther than that before Lance pushed in, though, seating himself in one fluid motion. “ _ Oh,” _ he sighed and screwed his eyes shut, temporarily overwhelmed by the combination of sensations. As if getting fucked for the first time in weeks didn’t already involve a heady mix of pleasure and pain, Keith was unbearably tight around his own length, and hot, god, they were both so hot. 

After a moment, the others grounded him with two hands on his shoulders, one on his back, and another on his hip. Keith, surprisingly, spoke first. He could see Hunk’s face better, so he took less time to figure out that something was up. “You okay?” He frowned, genuine concern overtaking the lust in his eyes, and when Hunk opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but giggle at that look. Keith never looked so concerned about anything, only cranky, hungry, or ready to fight. It was almost comical.

“Am now.” He answered, releasing one of Keith’s hips to reach back, searching for Lance. The other indulged him and took his hand, softly squeezing. 

“If it’s too much, we can do something else, baby.” Lance muttered, but Hunk shook his head, squeezing back.

“No way.” Hunk answered, and pushed back a little, as if trying to get Lance even deeper than he was. “You should know by now I’m unbreakable,” He teased, then remembered their little roleplay and shot a wicked smile over his shoulder at the other. “Fuck me, daddy.” 

Lance’s jaw dropped. He really should have had some kind of clever answer to that, but really, what could he say that would compare to giving him exactly what he wanted? Despite only being on top about as often as meteor showers happened, he knew he couldn’t treat Hunk the way he treated Keith when the cranky power bottom gave him an ounce of control. Rather than pounding into him like he was trying to break him, Lance rolled his body like he was giving a bellydancing lesson, pulling Hunk’s hips with his own to control the junction between him and Keith. 

Hunk’s hands returned to Keith’s body, bracing them on his shoulders and holding tight as if he might fly away otherwise, and the slight pain had the other’s eyes rolling back, legs moving up to wrap around Hunk’s waist in an attempt to pull him in deeper. None of them could hold back very well by this point, moans intertwining just like their bodies were, and surprisingly, Hunk was the most shameless of them all. He was usually the most reserved, expressing himself in small grunts and gasps, but he’d never been in the middle before, and combining the two was already too much when they began- much less when Lance started moving faster. “Oh, god, oh, yes,  _ yes _ , L-Lance, yes, fuck me, fuck me.” 

It didn’t matter that his pleads were redundant; hearing the man who barely said ‘damn’ without glancing around first curse like this was intoxicating, spurring Lance on, and he finally spoke up just before reaching the point of no return. “Tell me what you w- what you need, baby.” He ordered, even if his voice was breathless enough to hardly be audible.

It was more a genuine question than an acted line, which made it even more shocking when Hunk gave an answer straight out of a porno. “I need- I need daddy to cum.” He whined, and Lance didn’t know until then that five words could fling him into space so immediately, so completely, that he didn’t even register what happened next.

After Lance came inside him, bucking once, twice more as he rode his high, Hunk followed after, eyes rolling and hips twitching.

Keith, panting with his dick in his hand, came last, but he hardly minded; it meant he got to watch them both fall apart first, and that was worth it- not to mention the dirty thrill that came along with splattering Hunk’s brown chest with his seed. 

Hissing at his own over-sensitivity, Lance pulled out first, and once more, Hunk followed suit. The spent trio all collapsed on the bed in one sweaty dogpile, and none spoke for a few minutes, all soaking up the afterglow like it was sunshine and they were plants. 

In the end, Hunk broke the comfortable silence first. “You two…are still weirdos,” he asserted, and got one huff and one half-hearted slap in response before continuing. “But if using your kinks against you get me fucked like  _ that, _ I’m not sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy SHIT, I never thought this would get so much attention, thank you so much for all the kudos and comments!! As always, if you're reading this, I love you! ♡♡♡


	12. Days 19, 20, 21: Sheitor + Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I was too lazy to list the kinks in the chapter, because I combined three days into one big mess of a chapter.  
> 19\. Olfactophilia (Scent) | Nipple Play  
> 20\. Threesome (or more)  
> 21\. Double (Or more) Penetration | Impact Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be my favorite chapter so far.  
> Warnings: THIS IS SET AFTER SEASON 4, MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS!!!  
> Also contains mild hatefucking, hermaphrodite Lotor, and aphrodisiacs.

“So… you’re telling me these are irresistible to Galra.” Shiro narrowed his eyes skeptically at the alien on the other side of the counter. It had far too many shifty eyes and hands to be trusted.

“Yes! I’m serious, there’s a reason there are only two bottles left. It’s a best-seller.” The crook winked, and then pulled a tiny vial from one of the several pockets in its vest. Like the glass bottles on the shelf between them, it contained a pink liquid, but rather than containing a few ounces of it, the vial was smaller than his pinky. “Here-” it offered, uncapping the tiny vial and spraying the Black Paladin with the suspicious liquid before he could pull away. “A free sample, as thanks for saving my home planet- and then you’ll come back for more, I assure you.”

Shiro sputtered, stumbling back in an attempt to get away from the unknown chemical, but he was too late. It settled about his shoulders like a perfume, and although it didn’t smell too bad, he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t poison him, either. Moreover, this was supposed to be an undercover mission-- he’d even taken the time to wear a hat over his recognizable black-and-white hair, and find an outfit that didn’t scream ‘black paladin’ at all-- but in the end, he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that it wasn’t enough. Humans were pretty rare in this part of the galaxy. Frowning, he simply nodded and walked away from the booth entirely, choosing to say nothing rather than risk sounding ungrateful when he chose not to thank the sketchy scammer for spraying him with some suspicious substance.

_Worst of all, what if it worked?_

It was foolish temptation and nothing else that had him stopping at the shady booth full of colorful bottles in the first place. He wasn’t actually going to buy the serum the sketchy alien had been marketing as _Love Potion._ It was a jar of bottled pheromones, and Shiro didn’t have to be an expert on biology to remember that those didn’t always inspire love. More likely, it was some kind of attraction, and if Keith wasn’t already attracted to him by this point, he ought to just give up. They had only the chemistry that a pair of best friends did. He thought he’d accepted that already, a long time ago. Recently, a new development in their situation proved him wrong.

That new development was unexpected, clever, talented, athletic, confident, roughly seven feet tall, dazzlingly gorgeous, and named Lotor. Worst of all, he was into Keith.

He didn’t bother to keep it secret, either. His introduction to the team went almost the same way Matt’s had, if Matt had been brought into the castle in cuffs, escorted by one of their strongest rebel allies.

“Princess, Coran, Paladins- Prince Lotor.” The rebel announced gruffly, and the Prince grinned charmingly, like this was a cocktail party and not a tense war conference.

“A pleasure to finally meet you all face-to-face.” He purred, in that awful velvet voice he had, his accent dusting his words like powdered sugar on an overpriced dessert.

“I wish I could say the same.” Allura answered coldly, but she was raised a princess first and foremost, and the manners that once had been so necessary kicked in. “Lotor, this would be Shiro, the black paladin, Lance, the red paladin, Hunk, the yellow paladin, Pidge, the green paladin, Kolivan, and Keith- a former paladin.” Notably, she left off Lotor’s title, and omitted Kolivan and Keith’s affiliation to the Blade entirely, but no one commented on it.

Lotor’s eyes had followed her gestures as she indicated each member of the team, but once she was done, they didn’t leave Keith as quickly as they had moved along from the rest. The Prince’s attention inched from his face to his armor-clad shoulders, noted the way his chest sloped down into his narrow waist, dipped lower, and then came back up just as slowly. He opened his mouth to say something, and judging by the look in his eyes, it was nothing Shiro wanted Pidge to hear.

So, Shiro cleared his throat loudly, and pointedly asked him about his intentions to help the war effort, changing the subject. Only to protect his innocent teammates, of course.

The more time Lotor spent around them, though, the more apparent it became that his issue with their newest ally had nothing to do with Pidge, or even Lotor’s intentions. The problem had everything to do with Keith. He and Lotor were both half Galra, they both fought with swords, and both loved a good challenge- which they found in each other ever since the first time they fought. As he watched the end of the fight, both of them breathing heavy and grinning, something ugly reared its head inside of Shiro. Keith had lost, but it wasn’t concern. It wasn’t logical suspicion. It wasn’t anything logical. It was possessive, irrational. Sparring together had been his and Keith’s favorite activity for years. He knew that look, and it used to be his, but now it was Lotor’s.

He ignored it and left the training deck.

He had to learn to let go. Lotor was stunning- of course Keith would choose him.

 

Once this mission was done with, all he had to do was get to a showers before he ran into anyone with Galra blood.

Of course, due to being lady luck’s favorite punching bag, Keith happened to be walking down the hallway that led to Shiro’s quarters, and he jumped, quickly turning a corner to avoid him- only to run into Lotor.

“In a hurry?” Lotor joked, raising an eyebrow. It didn’t take a detective to notice that Shiro was anxious.

“Uh, yes.” He answered curtly, and pushed past him to continue in that direction- only to realize Lotor was following him. “You need something?”

Lotor hesitated, which was alarming enough on its own. He always had a reply for everything. “Do humans go into heat?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, sounding more hopeful than teasing.

For the first time, Shiro looked directly at him, and noticed the Galtean’s eyes were focused on him like he was a prize, and his chest was rising and falling a little faster than normal for someone who’d been doing nothing but walking. “Yes, I’m sure. Humans also don’t appreciate being asked invasive questions about how their bodies work, so if you’d-”

“Shiro!” Of course Keith would catch up to him at the exact moment he was about to tell Lotor to fuck off. “I didn’t know you were back!”

_Yes, because I was avoiding you._

“Did you find the informant?”

“Yes, everything went perfectly. Now, if you two will excuse me.” He smiled politely and changed direction; if he didn’t need to avoid that hallway anymore, he could take the shorter route and escape them sooner.

Keith had less experience than Lotor with just about everything, and that included encountering pheromones designed to send a Galra into a frenzy. So, when Shiro took a step closer, he reacted without a second thought, catching the other by his upper arm. “Why do you-” he began, stepping closer, and inhaled, which should have been creepy, so why was it so attractive? “Why do you smell so good?”

“I, uh,” what was he supposed to do? Call Keith a liar, when Lotor clearly knew what was going on? Admit that he’d been doused with pheromones while shopping in a sleazy potion shop? Neither was a good option, but he couldn’t think of any others, not with Keith leaning closer, literally nuzzling his neck and sighing out a soft, _oh_.

“Keith,” Lotor began, eyebrows raising as he put two and two together. “Do humans go into heat?”

Shiro gave him a dirty look for asking again as if the answer he’d already gotten couldn’t be trusted, but said nothing.

Keith answered in a mumble, hands snaking around Shiro’s waist. “Nope.”

Well, that didn’t explain anything, but more importantly, Keith was kissing at Shiro’s neck, and a flare of envy crippled Lotor’s self control. “Let’s take this somewhere else, gentlemen.” He phrased it politely, but it was not a suggestion. Forcibly pushing them apart, he took one of each of their hands and dragged them down the hall towards the Paladins’ quarters.

Shiro protested, “What do you mean _this?_ ”

“Is that really a question I have to answer for you, Shiro?” Lotor sassed, and Shiro clicked his teeth distastefully in response. “Now, which door is yours?”

Shiro knew he shouldn’t tell them. He did.

He also knew he shouldn’t let Lotor press him to the door and kiss him breathless while they were still in the hallway where anyone could see them, but he did. The only reason they stopped was because Keith interrupted, standing on tiptoe to bite Lotor’s shoulder and growl, “Mine.”

Lotor didn’t protest-- he only broke away to moan,-- and Shiro shouldn’t have enjoyed that, and yet, again… he did.

When they all made it into the bedroom, Keith reclaimed Shiro’s attention, kissing and biting his bare neck while his hands worked to remove his vest. Lotor helped, pulling the garment off quickly and hooking his clawed hands under the hem of his shirt to pull that off, too. Keith had to pull away to allow the shirt to pass, but as soon as he didn’t have to, he was back at it, and Shiro closed his eyes, guilty pleasure lapping at him like flames threatening to consume a building. It was all happening so fast- Keith’s hands moved to his belt as soon as Lotor took over undressing his top half, and he was naked before either of the others had shed anything. “Keith,” he gasped, pulling at the Blade of Marmora uniform he wore. “How do you-?”

Lotor interrupted before the other could answer, ordering, “Take it off, darling.”

Shiro turned to look at the man behind him, confused. _Darling?_

Even more confusing, Keith obeyed. Since when did Keith obey _anyone_? And since when was Lotor so good with his hands? Shiro moaned out as their former nemesis reached around him to pinch and tweak his nipples, gently at first and gradually getting rougher. He never even would have asked to have them played with, if someone wanted to know what he wanted, but now that he knew how it felt, he never wanted it to stop.

Keith, having removed his clothes as fast as he could without tearing the outfit the Blade had so kindly given him, returned to Shiro as soon as possible, curling a warm hand around the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Lotor interrupted with a finger on his lips, as if shushing him, just before they touched. “Kiss me.”

“I want him.” Keith argued, “And you already did. We’re past that.”

“No, we’re not. You’re still mine. Kiss me.”

Shiro couldn’t handle this anymore, and he twisted between them, pushing Lotor’s hands away from his own chest. “Wait, what are you talking about? Keith doesn’t belong to anybody, least of all you.” He faced the taller Galra and jabbed a finger to his chest, irritated.

Lotor only raised his eyebrows and looked up at Keith, over Shiro’s shoulder. “You didn’t tell him.”

It wasn’t a question, and when Shiro turned back to look at Keith, the other’s face was burning. “I was... getting around to it- listen, can we have this discussion later? Please?” He begged, and Shiro’s eyes flicked downwards of their own accord, noting the reason he was so impatient.

Shiro probably should have settled whatever they were before sleeping with them.

He was just as hopelessly hard as Keith, though, so… he didn’t. “Fine.” He begrudgingly agreed, eyes still glancing back at Keith’s arousal every other second or so. It was unexpectedly unique, thinner at the end than an average human’s, and uneven, a small swell under the base and a lovely upward curve. He’d wondered for so long what his best friend looked like naked, especially like this- now, the only question he hadn’t answered was what his cock tasted like. “Can I-?” he began, but there was no need to finish his question.

Keith was nodding eagerly and gripping his shoulders, thinking exactly the same thing Shiro had been. “Yes. Yes, please, Shiro, I need it so-”

Shiro kissed him to stop the babbling. “Patience… yields focus.” Knowing he was being a wiseass, using his own motto in this context, he grinned as he sank to his knees.

Lotor chuckled as he watched this exchange, then stepped in close, one boot between Shiro’s legs and the other to his left. “What a treat.” He purred- literally, the sound rumbling through his chest after he was done speaking, “You get to be sucked off by the black paladin you’ve been lusting after... and I get to watch.”

Shiro hardly cared that Lotor was watching- he was fixated on the part where Keith had apparently been ‘lusting after’ him. Looking up at his old friend as he took his cock in one hand, he asked, “So… I’m not the only one that thought about this?”

“ _Later,_ Shiro, please!” Keith shook his head, face redder than the hot pink tip of his dick, and laid a hand on Shiro’s head to push him forward. He couldn’t have that conversation, not then, with Lotor right there in his face and Shiro inches away from his sex.

Surprisingly, Shiro didn’t resist until Keith was more than halfway inside his mouth, only refusing because he knew he’d gag on any more. Once there, though, he closed his curious eyes and gave his full attention to the task, licking upwards and bobbing his head subtly just to appreciate the heft of it, the tang of salty skin on his tongue. Squeezing the base a little tighter, he began to move back, sucking hard, and then dipped forward again with a soft moan.

Keith didn’t move, and after his eyes fell shut, he refused to open them again, half convinced that this was a dream. Lotor noticed, laid a hand on the side of his face to slide it back into his hair, and nuzzled his jaw to get his attention, tongue snaking out to flick across the sensitive patch of skin just beneath his ear. “How’s that feel, dearest?” He breathed, tilting his head lower to bite Keith’s neck and suck a dark mark into it. “Open your mouth and tell us.” He continued once he let go, and Keith obeyed, a loud moan spilling from his lips. “Yes, that’s it.” Grinning, he pulled away to look down, watching Shiro move up and down on Keith’s length with enthusiasm. “You’re enjoying this just as much as he is, aren’t you, Takashi? Would you moan for me?”

Shiro’s tilted his head to look up at Lotor when his first name was used, a blatantly defiant look in his eyes as soon as they opened. _Not for you,_ they answered. Still, he didn’t stop. If anything, he went faster, closing his mouth tighter to scrape his teeth along the sensitive underside of Keith’s length, and Keith shuddered, another wanton groan escaping him.

Keith wasn’t about to stand there and passively let them do what he wished, though, so seconds later he was reaching up to fist a hand in Lotor’s gorgeous hair and pull him in, muffling his own voice against the other’s lips. Lotor kissed back fervently, careful to keep his teeth tucked behind his lips. Keith didn’t mind being bitten, of course, but when he had a pair of canines that would horrify most humans, it was a slippery slope from a playful nip to the kind that would have blood dripping down his chin. He was fine with that, of course- but he was no fool. It would only anger Keith, and Shiro would like it even less.

Even with Lotor holding back, from Shiro’s point of view, it still seemed as much a fight as a kiss. Keith didn’t seem to mind, though- his hand tightened in Shiro’s hair to push him further, and his hips began to buck, demanding more. Shiro happily gave him what he wanted, the hand on the base of Keith’s cock moving back to curl around his balls, and dropped his other hand between his own legs to relieve some of the horribly wonderful pressure building in his lower abdomen.

Lotor could feel Keith shake, one hand on the back of his neck and the other splayed across his abs, and he pulled away to watch as he slowly unraveled. “Close, aren’t you?” He taunted, and moved both hands to pinch at Keith’s nipples, clamping two clawed fingers over them and pulling until the other’s moans escalated to desperate screams and he spilled into Shiro’s throat, gagging him with load after load. “Swallow it, Shiro.” He ordered, reaching one hand down to brace the back of Shiro’s head so that he couldn’t pull away. The Black Paladin hadn’t taken well to his gentle question earlier, so clearly, it was time to switch to giving orders.

Shiro had no choice to obey, but even if his pride didn’t appreciate being suffocated and dominated by his former protege and his former enemy, his body certainly did. His cock seized in his left hand as he swallowed Keith’s load, twitching and spurting his own warm release over his fingers.

Finally, Lotor let him pull away to breathe, smirking at the way he glared up at both of them. “That wasn’t so bad.” He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if looking for an answer, but it wasn’t a question. He’d noticed the sticky white coating Shiro’s free hand, and the way his cock was laying on his thighs, soft and spent.

“No, but you should have asked.” Shiro grumbled.

Keith sighed and rolled his eyes, even though he was leaning heavily against Lotor thanks to his legs failing him immediately after he came. “Quit dick-measuring and fuck me already, asshole.” He stated bluntly, nuzzling Lotor’s neck, and the taller Galra moved both hands to his waist to better maneuver him, only to throw him onto Shiro’s bed like a ragdoll.

“As you wish, my profane precious.”

Now that he wasn’t thinking with his dick anymore, Shiro was back to being thoroughly confused. “You know, there’s so many movie villains you remind me of, I can’t decide which one to call you.” He pointed out, and Lotor laughed, casting a shameless grin over his shoulder at the paladin still knelt on the floor.

“Hand me your vest, Shiro.” He answered, mystifying as ever.

“Why?” Shiro demanded, even as he moved to do so.

Rather than answering out loud, Lotor twisted the garment into a thinner shape and, slotting a knee between Keith’s legs to rub against his still-hard cock, ordered, “Open up.”

Without hesitation, he obeyed, and Lotor shoved the fabric between his teeth. Keith gave only a muffled moan in response, and then a louder one when the other moved his now-free hands down to circle his nipples. His skilled fingers flicked and pinched, teased and tweaked Keith’s nipples just hard enough to have him arching, but never enough to break the skin, even with those rather intimidating claws, and god, Shiro had more questions than ever. Why did this seem so practiced, so familiar, so natural? Had they done this before? Why would Keith listen to him? When had they moved from being allies, to friends, to this? Why would Lotor use his shirt as a gag? Above all, why was it so hot? Had he ever been hard this soon after coming? Wasn’t he supposed to hate Lotor for treating his crush like this?

“Do you ever stop thinking, Takashi?” Lotor returned his attention to Shiro even though his hands never stopped teasing Keith, and arched his back, purposefully showing off his sculpted legs and ass, the way his lithe spine seemed designed to curve invitingly. “That’s probably why I got to him first.”

“You’re not allowed to call me that.” Shiro pointed out, even as he stood and walked up behind Lotor, hands sliding up his thighs.

“Fine. I’ll call you whatever you want me to, if you’ll quit stalling.” Lotor challenged, shaking his hips pointedly, and Shiro moved to yank his pants down, only far enough to slap his bare ass.

“Don’t call me anything.” He answered, his tone calm even as he punctuated his sentence with a harsh spank, and another.

“Take them off,” Lotor gasped, hips rocking like he simply couldn’t wait.

Shiro indulged his request, mentally noting that this was the last one he’d take. Once he did, however, he hesitated, tilting his head at what he found. Beneath Lotor’s ass, instead of the cock and balls he’d expect, there were a pair of pretty lips, shiny with slick, and a sizable cock below them where a clit should be. “Is that… are you a-?” he wondered out loud, and Lotor groaned.

“Thinking too much again.” He criticized, moving up to straddle Keith and grind against him.

Shiro had to pick his jaw up before he could do anything else. Practical as ever, he realized, if Lotor wanted both, they’d need lube he didn’t have. Then again, he realized, his petty side talking over the pragmatism, they had plenty of the natural kind. Grabbing Lotor’s hips, he hauled them higher, away from Keith’s arousal, and then held him there with his metal hand while the other moved between his lips to push two, then three fingers into his cunt. The alien moaned, nails dragging across Keith’s chest in an effort to ground himself, and tried to push back onto them, but Shiro pulled them out after only a couple short pumps. “You’re lucky I do.”

Then Shiro’s fingers were pressing into his ass, and Lotor understood, but knowing why he chose to keep him waiting didn’t make the waiting any easier. Still, his fingers were better than nothing, enough to make moaning easier than speaking coherently.

Keith, on the other hand, didn’t know why, nor did he feel like waiting, so he bucked under the larger man, and reached up to remove Shiro’s shirt and speak his mind. “Shiro, god, just fuck him. He likes it better when it hurts.”

Lotor didn’t bother to deny it, nodding as he watched Shiro over his shoulder. “I do.”

Well, if Shiro was dreaming, he didn’t want to wake up. “Keith first.” He ordered, letting go of the alien, and Lotor was all too eager to comply, raising his hips and sinking down onto Keith’s shaft with a pleasurable shiver. Satisfied with that, Shiro moved closer and lined himself up with Lotor’s ass, prodding once or twice before roughly thrusting in.

Lotor continued to surprise Shiro. Once he had both of them inside him, he started moving immediately, rolling his hips like a locomotive to drive both in and out of him. The deliciously full feeling had him moaning like a slut, too, which gave Keith an idea. Grinning almost gleefully, he sat up and pushed the shirt that had just been in his mouth into the other’s, wrapping around his head until he could hold it there with one hand.

“Fuck, yes,” Shiro approved emphatically, and gripped Lotor’s hips once more to hold him still. “Never knew the legendary Prince Lotor was such a _slut_.” Lotor growled viciously against the fabric in his mouth, but whether it was in response to being stopped or being insulted, they couldn’t be sure.

“Shiro,” Keith whined, leaning back to push further into Lotor, and the black paladin got the message. He didn’t let Lotor go, instead electing to move him himself, bucking into him in thrusts powerful enough to jostle him up and down in Keith’s lap. At this rate, none of them were bound to last long, so it was no surprise when Lotor began shaking, his voice escalating and head tilting back. “Close,” Keith managed, too, his own abdomen rising and falling rapidly as he fought to keep calm. He wasn’t generally one for self-control, but by god, he didn’t want this to end. He could watch Shiro impale Lotor onto them for an eternity.

Shiro could only grunt in response, half exerted from lifting a seven-foot half-galra up and down, and half breathless thanks to his own impending peak. He wasn’t getting out of this without taking Keith back, though, if only for a moment, so, seconds before the fallout, he released the prince’s hips and put one hand on each of the others’ heads. His right gripped Lotor’s hair, just hard enough to pull him aside, and his left brought Keith close enough to claim his lips over the other’s shoulder. It was a messy mosaic of teeth, lips, and choked moans, made even messier when all three peaked and the castleship they were on might as well have been flying through an asteroid field-- despite being safely on the surface of Olkarion.

Keith wouldn’t soon forget the way Shiro looked when it overtook him, eyes screwing shut and mouth open in a silent scream, and Shiro wouldn’t soon forget the reverse, either. Keith didn’t even scream silently; he made it obvious why Lotor had seen the need to gag him. Lotor, bearing the gag, didn’t make a sound, but his release shook all three of them like a hurricane.

It was a miracle any of them survived.

They collapsed in a pile on the mattress once the humans couldn’t take any more, and once Lotor was free, he simply reached up to move the gag from his face, throwing it across the room with perhaps a little more malice than necessary. “Keith,” he grumbled, and if Keith was lucid enough to give a damn, he’d know he was in trouble by the mere fact that his it’s-complicated bothered to use his name at all. “I’m going to fuck you until you cannot outrun a Balmera, for that… and they don’t move.”

As it were, though, Keith wasn’t in any state to give a damn, so he giggled, like Lotor wasn’t dead serious.

Shiro lazily raised an arm to slap Lotor wherever it landed, which happened to be his back. “Just came twice. Give’em a minute.”

Then, it was Lotor’s turn to laugh. “Twice is a warm-up, darling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does Sheitor count as fulfilling a Keitor request? If not, comment and let me know, I'll just write another Keitor chapter. ;)  
> Suggest other ships you'd like to see in the comments! (Already on my list: Allura/Lance, Hunk/Lance, Pidge/Hunk)  
> Also, this is mostly unedited, so if you see anything wrong with it, let me know! Constructive criticism is appreciated as much as nice comments, all are lovely, just like you. <3


	13. Day 22: Punk + Glory Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I'd be using glory holes as a plot device, and yet...  
> This is set in the same college au as chapter 9, even though Sheith isn't mentioned. It's also a little more dialogue-heavy than most chapters, so I guess, porn with plot?  
> Note: "Dak" refers to a nickname for my human name for Sendak: Dakota. He probably didn't think 'Dakota' was badass enough and nicknamed himself Dak, what a loser.

“Hey, when’s the last time you got your dick sucked?” Pidge spoke like they were discussing the weather, knowing full well that her poor friend could not handle such things.

Just as expected, Hunk turned as bright red as the cherry on his sundae. They were out for ice cream after spending the afternoon studying together, same as they did every Tuesday. “What??? I don’t know, a few- wait, why is this your business?” He nearly answered, only to throw a wall of privacy up between them.

“Hunk, everything’s my business. I hacked Lance’s computer just to settle an argument about furries last week.”

Hunk snorted with laughter; he was there for the entire fiasco. “That was a question I never wanted to know the answer to, by the way, so thanks for that.”

He was being sarcastic, anything but thankful, but Pidge replied, “You’re welcome.” anyway. “Really, though, why does it bother you so much? You didn’t even blink when I told you I spent my weekend trying to see if Dak’s gigantic dick would fit.” 

“Okay, first of all, yes I did blink, a lot, because that’s nasty. Not getting dicked down, I mean, I’m not sex-shaming, but- being anywhere near Dak is nasty. Second of all, I didn’t care because that’s  _ your  _ life, and you can talk about what you want. Doesn’t mean I have to share  _ my  _ life.”

“So, it’s been a while, then, huh?” Pidge tilted her head, and Hunk pouted over his sundae at her. “You wouldn’t be this hung up about it otherwise. Listen, I’m not asking just to make fun of you, I have an… opportunity to share with you.”

Hunk’s eyes were wide, but not with alarm. He couldn’t believe Pidge was about to proposition him. What was he supposed to do? Say no to pretty much his favorite person? It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it. She was a devilishly pretty genius that constantly overshared about her sex life, how could he not have thought about it? That said, he couldn’t say yes, either. She moved through boys faster than a toddler forgetting about a toy in their hand as soon as they saw a bigger, more colorful one. He couldn’t be another forgotten matchbox car in her toy bin. He couldn’t handle rejection like that.

Luckily, he was wrong. “You know what glory holes are?”

Hunk sighed in relief, closing his eyes, but it looked like exasperation. “Yeah, I know what a glory hole is, I’ve been on the internet once or twice.” 

“A friend of mine runs one. She gets off on, you know, anonymity. So, she said I should send her someone.” Hunk tilted his head forward to give her an  _ Are you serious right now? _ Look, because his mouth was full of ice cream. “What??” Pidge defended, “it’s free head! I’m doing you a favor.” She pointed, and then dug a post-it note out of her bag to write down a few details. “Judge all you want, but when you change your mind- and you will, ‘cause you’re a guy- this is where to go.”

“I resent that.” Hunk frowned, but she simply leaned across the table to tuck the note into his shirt pocket.

“I’m sure you  _ and  _ your high horse will have a great time. Now, I gotta go.” She grinned, getting up from the table and slinging her bag over her shoulder. 

“All of a sudden?” He narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the phone in her hand.

“Yes, all of a sudden, and no, since you’re wondering,” she waved her phone pointedly, “it’s not a date, I’ve got a meeting with the president of the Astronomy Club.”

“Oh, okay. See you soon! I hope your meeting goes well.” He smiled and, as she attempted to walk past him, pulled her into a hug.

“God, you’re such a sap.” She teased, even as she gladly hugged him back.

~~~

As always, Pidge was right. The more Hunk thought about it, the more attractive the idea seemed. It took all the anxiety out of going on a date, and if this girl was Pidge’s friend, it wasn’t like she’d bite his dick off or extort him through a hole in the wall. Then again, extortion was actually  _ more  _ likely because she was friends with Pidge, but he chose to have faith that his best friend wouldn’t steer him wrong.

So, on the day and time specified on the note, he showed up, shuffling into the tiny bathroom anxiously. It was in the back of a dive bar, so there was music playing, but it was also four in the afternoon, so it was empty. “Hello?” he called, and no one answered. “Oh, well. I guess I shouldn’t have expected an answer. I’m not supposed to hear you, right.” He muttered, mostly to himself, and paused to examine the two stalls. One was closed, one open, and against his better judgement, he knelt to check for feet under the closed one. There were indeed a pair of feet, too small to belong to most men, clad in black-and-white converse that could belong to anyone, the tops covered by blue jeans that could also belong to anyone. One of the sneaker-clad feet shifted, the toe pointing towards Hunk like the person was turning to face him, and started tapping.  _ Hurry up. _ “Sorry-” He muttered, and stepped into the open stall, locking the door behind him. “Sorry for acting weird. This is really weird. I’ve never done this before.” He admitted, unsure why he was spilling his guts to some stranger in a bar bathroom. “I mean, I’ve, you know, gotten head before, but from a person I knew, not, y’know. This.”

A tapping sound drew his attention down to the hole in the wall between the stalls, and he looked down to find a pale hand stuck partially through it, red-painted fingernails tapping impatiently. “Oh-” he understood, and moved to undo his jeans and step closer. “I’m gonna need, uh, some help,” he warned, and the hand turned palm-up to give a beckoning gesture.  _ Come closer. _ So, he did, his soft member nudging the fingers, and they deftly pulled him through.

He could hear a bit of shuffling as she got on her knees, and then Hunk gasped sharply, shocked by the sudden soft warmth of a tongue dragging its way across his skin. It continued that way, licking little stripes of wet heat up his length until it was fully hard, and then its owner changed gears and wrapped her soft lips around the head, sucking gently. 

Hunk moaned helplessly, his palms flat against the wall, and fidgeted a little, pushing further until no more of him could fit through the little hole in the wall. “Oh, God,” his eyes turned heavenwards when the person on the other side finally took more of his length into her mouth, sucking deep until she gagged. His size didn’t deter her, though; after gagging, she paused and continued, throat stretching and twitching around him. She pulled back after a few seconds and coughed a bit, and Hunk glanced down, frowning at the wall even if she couldn’t see him. “Are you okay?”

Again, she didn’t answer. He only heard a few quick exhales, like she was quietly  laughing, and then her mouth was back on him, pumping faster than before. It seemed she’d given up on deepthroating it, but he hardly minded- both of her hands kept the base warm, moving up and down in tandem with the rhythm of her mouth, and Hunk was lost in the sensation, his entire weight leaning against the wall. He couldn’t trust his legs anymore, so he reached his hands up to curl over top of the stall, and the wood  _ creaked  _ under his grip. The girl on the other side let a small sound slip, but Hunk could only tell because he felt it- between his own groans, the creaks of the stall, and the trashy music playing, he couldn’t hear her. “Did you just moan?” Hunk asked, amused. “You like that I could probably break this stall, don’t you?” 

She only sucked harder, forcing him to forget what he was saying. She couldn’t force him to finish immediately, though, and it was only after she gave up on hard-and-fast sucking in favor of slow, intense deepthroating that he came.

From Hunk’s perspective, it was the best of both worlds. She’d given him a taste of every style on the spectrum, proving that she was good at what she did, and he let her know just that with sweet moans and praises, even before spilling a generous amount of cum down her throat. “Oh, man.” He panted as he came down from his high, moving back to pull his sensitive dick out of the rough hole in the wooden stall. “That was… wow. And you really swallowed all that-? God, I’m- I wish I could return the favor.” He babbled a bit, only to be cut off by the sound of the other door unlocking and banging open. Quick footsteps, the bathroom door squeaking, and the door swinging shut followed, and he was alone.

Well. Apparently, she was in a hurry.

~~~

Next Tuesday, the two friends were sitting in the library, two calculus textbooks on the table between them. “So…” she began, a cocky grin on her face. “I was right, wasn’t I? You did go.”

“How do you know?” Hunk found himself on the defensive again. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” She was looking at him, though, with that know-it-all look that he hated, and he deflated under it. “Okay, fine, I did, and it was probably the best time I’ve ever had, which is  _ depressing, _ considering I’ll never see her again.” He pouted, flipping open his textbook and paging through it angrily-- or, as angrily as Hunk ever did anything, which was still pretty gentle. He couldn’t tear the pages, after all, this book was rented.

“You  _ could  _ see her again. She’s there like, all the time, y’know.”

~~~

And so it became a habit.

However, being, in Pidge’s words, ‘a total sap’, Hunk couldn’t help but want to know more. The second time he visited, he slipped a note through with his number on it. “I know that isn’t how you roll, but if you ever wanna, like- actually grab a drink, or something- lemme know.”

The third time, he slipped a bracelet through. “I’m not saying, that like, you’re doing this for money, or anything, I just really wanted to get you something, because you’re so good to me.” He explained, and she just clicked her tongue, pushing her red-painted fingers through again to beckon him closer.  _ Sure, whatever. Give me what we came here for. _

He checked the stall afterwards, though, and there was nothing there, meaning she’d kept the bracelet.

Hunk smiled.

~~~

He ran into Pidge at a store the next day, unexpectedly turning a corner to find her examining tiny screwdrivers. “Whose computer are you taking apart?” He teased, but she jumped like he was a monster.

“Hunk! Hey. Uh, can’t tell you that, legally.” He shot her a look, somewhere between concerned and disapproving, but she chose to ignore it and change the subject. “Anyway, what’re you looking for?”

“One of those little clamp tools. My fingers are too big to re-position the wires on this project I’m working on.” He explained, and they fell into one of their usual technical chats, debating the pros and cons of various tools in jargon most people couldn’t comprehend, but when Pidge held up a tool to offer it to him, Hunk nearly had a heart attack.

Her nails were red.

Instead of taking the tool, he closed his hand around hers to hold it there, and pulled the sleeve of her sweater up to check her wrist. Pidge attempted to pull back, but he was a dozen times stronger, and their joined hands didn’t even budge. “Hunk, what the fuck? Let me go.”

He wasn’t listening. He was staring at the bracelet laying on her wrist, and after a few seconds of examining it to ensure he was right, he looked up at her. “Pidge, you know exactly what the fuck. I’m gonna need an explanation for this.”

This situation was unsalvageable. Pidge was turning red, half embarrassed by this predicament she’d created, and half irritated at his tone. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Hunk let go of her hand to fold his own. “Yeah, usually, I’d be with you on that, you don’t owe me anything, but considering you saw the need to  _ manipulate me  _ into-” he glanced around, wary as always of strangers’ judgement. How did they always end up having these conversations in public? “Having a physical relationship with you in a public place, I think, for once, you do owe me an explanation.”

“God, you sound like a biology textbook.”

“Pidge!” 

It was rare that he sounded truly angry, and Pidge quietly noted that it wasn’t something she liked on him. Still, even she had to admit he was right. “Okay, so, yes, I’m more than a little fucked up for pulling this garbage. I wanted you, and you didn’t want me, so I made myself a stranger with red nails. You didn’t mind yesterday when you were getting cum all over my damn-” She started, but Hunk cut her off with a sudden kiss.

“One, shut up.” He said, once he broke away. “You’re not allowed to say those things in public. Two, what the hell made you think I didn’t want you?”

Pidge stared up at him, still half angry. “What,,,” she had so many questions, they couldn’t even be organized into one. “Have you  _ seen _ your exes? Shay is a six foot tall amazon with biceps like The Rock, and pretty much a saint reincarnated. Lance is also six feet tall, and he asked you out with a cake that said ‘date me?’ on it. You dated them for more than a year, each. I’m a tiny boobless gremlin that breaks the law constantly, goes through boys like underwear-  _ your  _ words, by the way- and hates relationships even more than I hate liberal arts majors. We’re fundamentally incompatible.”

“Why do you hate art majors?” Hunk muttered, then realized how off-topic that was and shook his head. “No, never mind, that doesn’t matter- you really thought I wasn’t into you because of  _ height _ ?”

“And, you know, general personality flaws. Look, can we not have this conversation, like, at all? I’m getting hives just thinking about what you’re about to say.”

“No.” Hunk stood his ground. “And if you’re as allergic to affection as you say you are, well, I got some bad news for you, cutiepie.” He grinned and leaned down to scoop her up in his arms, snickering at the way she protested.

“Hunk!! Put me down! Did you just call me  _ cutiepie? _ I’ll kill you in your sleep!”

“You’d have to put me to sleep, first.” He whispered, and her blush worsened. 

Hunk was a very polite person; Pidge had only just heard him say  _ fuck _ for the first time the day before, when she did something new and wrecked his self-control with her teeth. For him to even suggest something like this to her face was extraordinary. “Well, you already know I can do that.” She grumbled, refusing to look directly at him, and crossed her arms between them.

“Yeah, but-” Hunk glanced around again. “I’m willing to bet you won’t wanna kill me in my sleep if you give me a chance.”

“I’m a kinky fuck, you know.” Pidge blurted out, finally turning to look at him. Come to think of it, she was starting to enjoy being in his arms. It allowed her to look down at him, for once. “I’ll put a collar on you and bruise you up the first chance I get. Or put your huge fists in my-”

Hunk dropped her onto her feet, took her hand, and started to drag her towards the front of the store. “What did I  _ just _ say?”

Pidge hesitated, running through recent memory. “Give you a chance?”

“Well, that too, but before that, you’re not allowed to say things like that in public.”

She cackled. “What if I just start yelling kinky shit-”

They’d made it out of the store, and Hunk pulled her closer to answer her rhetorical question very quietly. “I’ll be very mad at you, because thinking about those things will get me all kinds of fucked up, and you know very well that I can’t  _ hide  _ the damn thing.”

Pidge bit her lip, and remained quiet for the drive to her apartment. She had plans to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I'm dying to make this an entire fic. Also, I'm clearly not going to make it as far as getting 31 prompts done before October is over, but don't worry- I'm having a great time with these, I'll just continue into November. ;)  
> As always, every comment is a gift! Even if you just wanna comment your fave emoji, or thought this chapter was garbage, come talk to me!


	14. Day 23: Keitor + Corset / Against A Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missed everyone's favorite edgelord's birthday, and I had to make up for it. So here's Keitor hatefucking aka The Obligatory Knight + Prince AU No One Asked For 'Cause I'm A Sucker For These. :D  
> This is set sometime during the 1700s, maybe. I don't know. I just needed a reason for Lotor to wear a corset, okay.

Keith’s heeled boots clicked on the marble floors of the castle as he rapidly walked- well, he didn’t know where, but he couldn’t stand to be in the dining hall anymore. He needed space, or noise, or something to quiet the voices screaming inside his head that he’d fucked it up irrevocably this time, they weren’t going to forgive him for this, he didn’t belong here in the first place, why did he think he could be a knight, why did he think he could be anything but what he was born as--

Perhaps a long ride would do him some good. He’d preferred the company of the castle horses to the castle’s humans ever since he could remember.

After rounding another corner, though, he became acutely aware that he wasn’t alone. One of the sharp footsteps in the hallway was off-rhythm; they could mask it when he walked straight, but no one could accurately predict the way Keith moved when changing direction in a hurry-- not even Keith, sometimes.

Before they even knew he was aware of them, they had a knife to their throat, his other arm around their shoulders. They were significantly taller than him, unfortunately, so the hold was a little more awkward than usual, but successful.

“Well, if you hadn’t managed to offend my father before, this would do the job.” The visiting Prince frowned pointedly, as if the dagger against his neck was nothing but a minor inconvenience, and Keith cursed and let him go.

“What are you doing here, Your Highness?” Adding the correct title didn’t make the question quite as polite as it should have been.

“Exactly what it looks like.” He answered evasively, and Keith was reminded why he wasn’t supposed to talk to visiting royalty. They didn’t speak in any way that made sense, only proving to frustrate him further.

He looked down, examining the other for any explanation, and found nothing he hadn’t seen earlier. The Prince of Daibazaal was as gorgeous as one could be, his pale, silky tresses cascading behind his bold shoulders, which tapered into an impossibly narrow waist, all supported by strong legs clad in boots that were too high for the weather outside. Only half of it was practical; the rest was his lion’s mane, only useful for flashing at others and announcing his status.

“Following you, sir.” He finished eventually, smiling like the Knight’s social ineptitude was the most amusing joke he’d heard all year. “But I appreciate whatever you were just thinking about me, because judging by your eyes, it was rather flattering.”

Keith’s mood wasn’t improving any; in addition to his initial frustration, he was now beyond flustered. “You don’t know what I’m thinking. You don’t know anything about me.” He snapped, and then hurriedly added a less-than-cordial, “ _Your_ _Highness_.”

Lotor stepped closer, fearless. “You know, our superiors are just as angry with me right now as they are with you. I wasn’t supposed to leave either, but I felt something. I  _ do  _ know you, perhaps better than you know yourself.”

It was a good thing Keith had put away his trusty dagger, or he really might have done irreparable damage to the Prince, and his own job in the process. As it were, he did nothing more than shove the other, hard enough that he hit the tapestried wall behind him. “You don’t!” he shouted, and inexplicably, Lotor grinned.

“You’re exactly like me.” He insisted, and then reached out to snatch the other’s hands, and pinned them to the wall behind himself, on either side of his waist. “Or, the way I used to be. You’re in denial. It kills you every day, doesn’t it, to look at the beautiful Prince, knowing he’s betrothed to my sister? That’s why you hate the Galra family. Not because of me, not because of my father’s tyranny. But because of Allura, the sweetest of this wretched family.” He laughed at the irony of it all.

Keith struggled, throwing his weight backwards to free his hands, but the Prince was deceptively strong for such a lanky figure. His words were far worse than being physically trapped, though, worse than anything, and Keith could feel each of them take a piece of him like he was being eaten alive. “Stop it!”

“You don’t deny it!” Lotor sang, and then, noticing the way Keith tensed and leaned back slightly, quickly added, “don’t do anything rash, now. They’ll notice.”

How did he keep reading Keith’s mind? How could he have known he was about to be headbutted hard enough to break his pretty nose?

“But if you can’t hurt me, what are you going to do, hm?” He grinned. “Go on. You know the answer.”

“No.” Keith spat, pushing his body closer- to keep him in place. He was just trying to fight back, nothing else.

Lotor took it as an invitation anyway, and closed the distance between them to kiss him hard. 

Keith was shocked, infuriated, and above all, mortified that he’d do such a thing right there in the hallway. It wasn’t a large or central one, because he intentionally took the back way to the stables to avoid running into anyone, but married couples didn’t even kiss like this in the halls; a couple’s reputations would be ruined if they were seen. Keith and Lotor weren’t even a couple. They’d just met, they were of different classes, different kingdoms, and the same sex. They would be put to death for such a thing. So why didn’t he pull away?

The Prince could feel the initial shock fading, and hear a sigh tumble from the knight as he lost the fight-- not against Lotor, but against himself. Keith abruptly forgot to care about social rules, about his job, about anything but him, and Lotor adored it. The cheeky knight even dared to part his lips and bite one of Lotor’s, making him whimper with a satisfaction that couldn’t quite be described as pleasure or pain. He responded in kind, with a harsher bite as if to threaten him, but Keith only moaned in response, not minding one bit. How like him, Lotor mused, to consider a threat a delicacy and eat it up hungrily. He really did have a point when he said that they were two of a kind.

Keith, meanwhile, wasn’t thinking much at all. If he thought about what they were doing, he’d flee, and it would be over. So, he simply did things as they occurred to him. He wanted to bite Lotor back, so he did. He wanted to know what Lotor’s tongue tasted like, so he delved his own between the other’s lips and found out-- wine, apparently. He wanted to touch, to move, so he tried again, arms flexing against the Prince’s hold.

Lotor grinned and, unsurprisingly, refused to let go. He did tilt his head to break the kiss, though, murmuring against Keith’s neck. “Will you run off if I let you go?”

“Probably.” Keith dropped petulantly, and then his mouth was on the Prince’s neck, kisses contradicting his words. He was far from affectionate about it, though, biting viciously as if he was a vampire unlucky enough to have dull human teeth.

If the answer was no, the blunt man would’ve just spat a no at him. Lotor released him and moved his own hands down to Keith’s hips, sliding them down and back to squeeze his ass roughly. Keith groaned and bucked away from the hands behind him, though whether he was escaping or seeking out more was unclear even to him. 

Either way, what he found was more. His hips nudged Lotor’s, and, spurred on by the tantalizing tingle of pleasure the small, half-accidental contact had given him, he immediately stepped in to grind against him harder. The Prince, quiet until now, rewarded him with a broken moan, but Keith didn’t intend to let him repeat it. He moved a hand up to clap it over his mouth at the first opportunity. “Shut up.” He rasped, fleetingly baring his teeth like an animal, then bent to resume biting at his neck. Keith was never very good at multitasking, though, so as he worked at ruining his neck and at popping open the buttons of Lotor’s lovely lavender jacket at the same time, the movements of his hips became uneven, rolling in an erratic fashion like waves overlapping each other in their race to the shore. Seeing that the Prince wasn’t naked under his shirt certainly didn’t help; a black, lace-trimmed corset hugged his waist, cinched tight to make his waist look tinier in comparison to his broad, intimidating shoulders. Keith was no fashion expert, but anyone could say, with confidence, that lace-trimmed corsets were for women, and the deviance of wearing such a thing under the kind of military-formal jacket appropriate for a Prince attending a banquet at a neighboring kingdom was  _ devastating  _ to his self-control.

Lotor decided he needed help, and delved a hand between Keith’s leather tunic and his white undershirt to untie the strings holding his pants closed. He went still, as if to make it easier, so the Prince took that as an invitation, and used his other hand to undo his own. He’d heavily suspected the knight was a virgin, but when Keith’s hand moved to push two fingers into his mouth, he began to question that.

“Suck,” he ordered, then, more specifically, “wet them.” 

Quickly catching on, Lotor did just that, making an utter spectacle of himself with his eyes shut and his entire mouth spoiling Keith’s fingers like his life depended on it. He closed his mouth around them first, giving a strong suck as he was told and rubbing his tongue along the pads of his fingers. Then, he pulled back a bit and dragged his tongue along both sides, leaving them dripping.

Keith was satisfied once the first four were wet, and dropped his hand between them to wrap it around both of their unconfined cocks. “Yours, too.” He demanded, snatching Lotor’s hand and bringing it up to his own face. The Prince narrowed his eyes, about to protest, so Keith let go of his hand to reach back and grab a handful of the shiny, silver-blonde hair Lotor loved so much and pull. “ _ Do it _ , you pompous fuck, or I’ll continue the fight you started- and win it.”

Lotor’s eyes hardened at that, glaring down his nose at the shorter man as if that would do anything, but Keith’s will was stronger. He only tightened his grip until the Prince buckled, physically shrinking as all the air left his lungs. “I was wrong, you’re  _ worse  _ than I am.” he asserted, and then set about coating his own hand in saliva, gracelessly. Once he was done, his joined Keith’s, and they both started to rut into them, effectively ending any conversations they might have had.

Keith began to hyperventilate as the pressure mounted inside him, and, fully realizing what was about to happen, Lotor shoved him with both hands. Taken by surprise, he stumbled, and tripped on his own fallen pants, making the Prince cackle at the absurdity of it all. “ _ What- _ ” he began, face red and contorted with a mix of frustration and arousal, but Lotor simply glanced around and then followed him to the floor, one hand on the tile and the other pushing Keith’s chest until he was prone on his back.

Moving back so that his head was level with the other’s hips, he took the knight’s cock into his mouth, and the poor boy wailed with unexpected pleasure, bucking up one last time before gushing into his mouth. Lotor swallowed as much as he needed to so that it wouldn’t dribble out of his mouth, but most of it was kept there, so that when he moved up to kiss Keith again, he could coat his mouth in his own cum.

As expected, Keith grunted with surprise when he was greeted with a mouthful of the thick, salty substance, but he was too weak to really protest, his muscles still recovering from the most intense storm of pleasure to which they’d ever been subjected. “You’re- disgusting,” he coughed after swallowing, and wrinkled his nose further at Lotor’s grin. 

“My turn, little knight.” The prince cooed like he hadn’t said anything, and started to crawl upwards, but Keith caught on and reacted instantly. He hadn’t become a knight because of his looks, after all; grabbing Lotor’s right hip and his neck, he used both hands and his own weight to flip the other onto his back, finding a sick satisfaction in the way his head audibly smacked against the tile. The resulting pain caused him to shut his eyes and grit his teeth, but Keith was no longer concerned with his opinion. He’d already gotten what he wanted from him.

“I don’t owe you anything but a knife to the throat.” He spat, even as his right hand closed around the other’s still-hard cock. “But I’ll give you this if you won’t tell a soul what just happened.”

Lotor was giving him that hateful look again, one he liked more and more every time he saw it. The prince was so difficult to ruffle, so calm and collected, Keith considered it an accomplishment to coax out his temper. “Deal.” He agreed through gritted teeth, and Keith’s hand finally began to move, jacking him off until he splashed striking white streaks across the surface of his black corset. The knight didn’t quite stop until he shifted uncomfortably and whimpered, his shaft too sensitive for any more, and when he finally let go, the Prince’s wits came back enough to register annoyance that he had intentionally been made a mess.

“Good luck with that.” Keith spoke before Lotor could complain. He was already on his feet, tucking himself back into his pants, and after they were tied and a few strands of sweaty hair were smoothed out of his face, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for validation. Tell me what you thought :D


	15. Day 25: Hance + Smiles/Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I saw this prompt and thought, how is smiles/laughter even a kink??? That's so precious. I gotta throw Hance at this.  
> Now, I'm not saying they're a sweet and pure couple all the time, because in my opinion, Hunk would totally treat Lance the way he treats Keith in chapter 3, and Lance would love it, but when they don't bother to get kinky... they get horrifically sweet. If vanilla/fluffy sex isn't what you're here for, skip this chapter.

Hunk didn’t like being woken up any more than most people, but when it was his cuddly boyfriend interrupting his sleep by cutely nuzzling his cheek, well, he couldn’t mind. He did reach up to stop Lance’s wandering hand from trailing across his belly, though, giggling hazily. “Babe! That tickles!” 

Lance mumbled, “Does it?” and gently wiggled his wrist out of Hunk’s grip to move his hand again, tickling him on purpose. Hunk shouted and attempted to wriggle away, cackling helplessly. “Lance! Stop it! I’m gonna- I’ll kill you??” His voice turned up in the end, squeaking with laughter.

“Is that a question?” Lance teased, “Are you asking permission?” 

Hunk yelled vaguely and surged up, flipping the smaller man onto his back and pinning his hands beside him. “Ha!” He gloated for a second, and then pulled both of Lance’s hands above his head so that he could hold both with one large hand. “Guess what’s for breakfast, sweetie?” He grinned, and Lance’s eyes widened, recognizing what was about to happen. Before he could answer, Hunk answered his own question, the fingers of his free hand dancing down to Lance’s underarms. “Revenge!”

As expected, Lance shrieked with laughter and thrashed around, but his lover was far too heavy for him to throw off, so he simply ended up laughing himself to tears. “Babe!!” He whined but Hunk didn’t relent just yet.

“What’s the magic word?” He teased, having moved on to tickle Lance’s sides.

“Please! Mercy! Abracadabra!!” Lance tried all of them, and thankfully, it worked. Hunk stopped and leaned down to apologize with a kiss. So, naturally, Lance bit his lip- not hard enough to do any real damage, but much harder than necessary. 

“Ow!” Hunk protested, pulling back to pout at him. Lance didn’t apologize, and judging by the look on his face, he’d be lying even if he did. “You know, if you weren’t so cute, I don’t know if I’d forgive you.” 

“Aw, am I? I didn’t notice,” Lance’s smile widened into an adorable grin, proving he did know. “Tell me what you mean.”

Hunk knew he was being ridiculous because he just wanted more compliments. But when Lance grinned up at him like that, eyes shining with laughter-tears, how could he refuse him? “I mean, you and your smile are probably the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, and that’s including that time we went to that super-fancy Japanese restaurant and the chef made the eiffel tower out of sushi right in front of our eyes.” 

Lance’s eyes widened; he hadn’t expected Hunk to actually take his bait, and now, he had no clue how to respond to such high praise. It would seem like a strange statement from anyone else, but food was his lover’s favorite thing, and sushi was his favorite food. “Hunk,” he murmured it like a protest, almost, but any bite it might have had was drowned in affection.

“Mhmm.” Hunk nodded, “Cute and precious, stunning and charming, and somehow sexy and devious, all rolled into one. It’s part of the reason you’re my favorite person. And I don’t mean that metaphorically, if I could be anywhere in the world right now… I’d still be here, smushing you.”

Lance fidgeted, his goofy grin having faded into a smaller, but more genuine smile. “Honey, that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, and I love you so much, but- you really are smushing me.”

“I know.” Hunk chuckled and shifted his weight onto his hands and knees so that his lover could breathe, but only gave him a few seconds to do so before leaning down to kiss him breathless again. Eventually, their slow, lazy kisses warmed into hungry ones, and Lance escalated by planting his feet on the mattress and pushing his hips up towards the other. Hunk made a small noise of surprise and broke the kiss, glancing down between them. “Are you-?”

“Babe.” Lance interrupted. “I’ve got a gorgeous man on top of me, holding me down and kissing me like I’m the only one in the world- of course I am.” A slow grin spread across Hunk’s round face, and Lance whispered, half to himself, “Oh, god. I love that look.” 

“What look, the one that says I’m gonna give you what you want?” Hunk prodded, tossing the blankets off of them both so he could sit back and pull Lance’s pajama pants off. “Just like you said- of course I am. You deserve everything you want. You’re so good. Good at what you do, yes, but you’re a good person, too. A good boyfriend.” As he rambled, he leaned over to the bottle of lube sitting on the bedside table, pumped some onto his fingers, and moved them between Lance’s legs to push two into him. 

The man under him whimpered, but not with pain; he’d been stretched enough to accommodate Hunk just hours ago, before they fell asleep, so two fingers was nothing in comparison. What he really couldn’t handle was the combination of Hunk’s fingers and his words, stroking his ego just as his hand coaxed him open. “Hunk, please,” he whined, after his lover managed to wiggle three fingers without any pain. “I can take it, I can’t take waiting, just fuck me now,  _ now _ .”

Hunk reached for more lube before obliging him, but he did oblige. “Okay, okay. Calm down, baby. I’m just making sure I don’t hurt you, ‘cause then we’d have to stop for awhile… and I like being with you whenever I want.” He smirked a bit as he pushed his own pajama pants down to his thighs and slathered the slippery substance coating his fingers onto his shaft. They knew from experience just how much Lance couldn’t take, and the time it took for him to heal wasn’t something either of them cared to relive, even if Hunk did have a great time teasing him for a few weeks. 

Either way, it wasn’t long before Hunk was pushing into him, and Lance was moaning like a porn star, legs moving up to wrap around the other’s wide hips. “God, yes, oh, fuck, Hunk, you feel like heaven- I wanna touch you, please, please let me, I need to.” He begged without hesitation, far too turned on to feel any shame. 

Hunk, continuing the trend of spoiling him, let go of his hands as soon as he asked, and started moving a moment later. Instead of a predictable in-and-out, though, he rolled his hips in a way that kept his cock inside, slowly grinding to let Lance feel it, every bit of it. “Go on, babe. Touch my hair, my chest. You know I love it. You know me better than anyone,” Hunk urged, but his voice was growing strained and uneven as his own arousal began to affect him. 

“I do. You’re mine,” Lance breathed quietly as he obeyed, running one hand through Hunk’s dark hair while the other traced his collarbone, and Hunk pulled out to distract him with a few deep thrusts.

“Yes, I am, baby.” He agreed, then gently put a finger across the other’s lips, knowing that he wouldn’t listen if he simply told him to be quiet.. “Open your eyes and look at me. I want, to watch, you while I-” his words began to stutter and stumble as he picked up the pace, but he stubbornly continued trying to mask it. “While I make love to you. You’re beautiful.” He eventually finished the thought, and Lance listened, opening his eyes to look up into Hunk’s with a smile.

“What are you, a romance novel?” he teased, and Hunk chuckled, moving his hand higher to put his entire palm over his mouth.

“Shush.” 

Lance laughed behind his hand, only to stop abruptly when his lover picked up the pace, bucking into him a little harder than before. His eyes rolled back for a moment, but soon refocused on Hunk, trying very hard to keep his attention where it should be. They seemed to have a wordless conversation between them, roaring and quiet at once like the ocean, and then Lance’s deep blue pulled him down, down into a kiss that dissolved his wits into it.

After that, there were no more words left, only the push and pull of the tide between them, rising so gradually that they nearly didn’t notice until they got wet. Lance came unexpectedly, untouched, dotting both of them with pearls of white, and the little vibrations of his shuddering muscles sent Hunk over the edge, too, the larger man going still as he drowned in pleasure. He stalled afterwards instead of pulling out immediately, hanging his head to rest it on the other’s chest, and Lance smiled, wrapping his arms around his beloved. After several minutes spent just lying there in the glow of morning sunlight mixed with sex, he broke the delicate silence. “But really,” he mused, “what  _ should  _ we have for breakfast?”

They spent the rest of their lazy Sunday morning laughing together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever get so carried away with a metaphor...  
> Anyway, everyone in the comments makes me so happy, suggesting fantastically kinky ideas, and although I love them, I won't get to all of them before October ends. They'll probably be put in another fic, because if I'm writing smut in November, well, it just counts as writing smut, not Kinktober. But still!! Thank you all for being awesome!! Let me know what you thought, if you bothered to read this one. :P

**Author's Note:**

> I'm terrible at deciding which ship to inflict a kink on, so feel free to request a favorite ship for future chapters! Crack ships welcome :3c


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